


As Human as We Want to Be

by yashkonu



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yashkonu/pseuds/yashkonu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something between an amalgamation of headcanons and an AU where the White Fang didn't get all murdery and Various Other Things Are Different But That Would Be Telling</p><p>Enjoy, I hope!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Every Hello Carries the Weight of Goodbye

Blake Belladonna let out a silent, metered sigh as she lay smoothly against what would, for the next four years, be her pillow, on her bed. She had certainly anticipated the rapid pace of the proceedings on her first day at Beacon, though many of the… surprises had been on account of the members of her new team. Two in particular.

Ruby Rose, the fledgling team's leader, had Blake… concerned. The younger girl was a veritable wellspring of untapped potential, true, but her youth and exuberance had the potential to cause problems. For example, they had already suffered more than a couple bruises and noise complaints while assembling their (still decidedly precarious) bunk beds. For now Blake had resolved to remain cautiously optimistic.

Then there was Ruby's older sister, Yang Xiao Long. Blake had decide against pressing either sibling on the difference in surname. Yang had proven to be as capable as she was impulsive, and her reckless nature had proven to be as prominent off the battlefield as it was on it. Between Yang's recklessness and her own tendency to plan ahead, Blake knew there was room for either wonderful synergy or disastrous disharmony.

Her final teammate, Weiss Schnee, had her concerned for an entirely different reason. Despite possessing a much more… steady personality than the sisters, the fact of her last name remained. As the heiress to Schnee Dust Company, the girl doubtless held a great deal of carefully taught prejudice against faunus. Faunus like Blake. Weiss had been surreptitiously eyeing Blake's exposed ears and feline eyes constantly during their initiation in the forest, and looked positively distraught upon discovering they were to be on the same team, in the same room. The feeling was mutual. Schnee industries had more faunus blood on their hands than Blake liked to think about, and a disastrous retaliation had been only narrowly avoided. Sooner or later, there would have to be a Conversation, and one deserving of the misplaced capitalization.

Their coming together had been clumsy and chaotic, but with the setting sun a relative peace had descended on their room. Ruby sat on a pillow in the middle of the floor, clad in a red tank-top and a pair of loose black pants, amid a veritable forest of gleaming chrome. The past hour had been dedicated to servicing Crescent Rose, the hulking weapon painstakingly disassembled and meticulously cleaned. Ruby was different at times like this. Ordinarily, her eyes all but shone with barely contained energy. Here, though, there was a contented placidity to them. She simply sat, eyes half-lidded and with a mild smile, dexterously fiddling and cleaning, until each and every component all but glowed. Yang, who had locked herself in the bathroom for nearly an hour and a half, finally emerged in an outfit similar to Ruby’s, though with a golden top. The two were nothing if not on brand. The boisterous blonde tiptoed through Ruby’s sea of parts with uncharacteristic grace and flung herself bodily onto the unoccupied lower half of Blake’s bed, earning herself a cocked eyebrow. She returned the look in kind, propping herself up on one elbow. “So.” It was a question, of sorts, though there was only one real answer.

“So?”

“So, we’re partners! You and me!” there was a palpable undercurrent of nervousness behind the words.

“That does seem to be the case, yes.”

“I uh… I was hoping to get to know you a bit better? Y’know, since we’re partners? I mean I don’t really know anything about you other than like, your name. That and the uh…” She gestured vaguely at the top of her head. “Beacon’s a pretty evenhanded place as far as faunus go, but I still only noticed one or two besides you.” At this, the feline girl nodded after a lengthy pause.

“Beacon has been good, true.” Her eyes shifted down, fixed on her hands. “For most faunus the trouble is in getting this far. The rest of the world isn’t as kind as Beacon.” Silence descended on the room as Yang considered her words, broken only by the faint whisper of oiled cloth as Ruby worked. Blake spared a sideways glance across the room at Weiss. Ostensibly, she was reading. Blake’s hearing was better than most, though, and she noted that she hadn’t heard the crinkle of a turning page since her conversation with Yang had begun. “… Some of us are working to make things better.” _This_ silence had a different texture altogether than the first, like a sheet of brittle glass had been laid over the room, primed to shatter at the slightest sound.

Blake rose silently, four eyes tracking her as she moved to her dresser, took an oversized black t-shirt from it, and removed her top. On her back, just between the shoulder blades, was the mark of a wolf’s head in a circle, wrought in black ink. The fragile tension in the room finally broke with a metallic _clang_ as Crescent Rose’s barrel slipped from Ruby’s grasp, clattering into a pile of glistening components.

“You were in the _White Fang?_ ” Yang seemed excited more than anything else.

“Close. I never left.” Weiss, who had abandoned her book and was now typing something on her scroll, had by some miracle gone whiter than her usual.

“Then you probably know about all that… stuff that happened last winter, right? No one seems to really know much, other than that it was almost really bad.” Blake ran a hand along the back of her neck, searching for the right words.

“Really bad is a gentle way to put what almost happened. It’s a long story, and not a fun one. The _short_ version is that a few…” she trailed off briefly, a faraway look in her eyes before she gathered herself. “… A few well-respected and long-standing members got sick of the ‘peaceful’ part of peaceful protest. They had plans I don’t like to think about. The rest of us, the true Fang… we made sure it didn’t happen.” She pulled the loose top over her shoulders, covering the tattoo once more. Ruby cocked her head.

“I thought-“ she paused to clear her throat, dry after her relatively lengthy silence. “I thought you said it was a long story?”

“It is. Maybe I’ll give you all the long version some time. What matters for now is that the Fang hasn’t changed, we haven’t… gone bad.” There was a scoff from Weiss’s side of the room. Yang shot a brief glare across the room and Blake’s ears flicked irritably. Ruby ‒ and Blake would never know if it was deliberate or not ‒ was kind enough to tear the tension hanging over the room cleanly in twain with the smooth mechanical noise of her spotless and newly-reassembled weapon transforming.

“All done!” gingerly setting her beloved aside, Ruby checked her scroll. “Wow it uh… sure got late, huh guys!” She glanced around the room. “Guys?”

* * *

 

Weeks had passed since the frictive first night, and if there had ever been hope of Blake and Weiss coexisting amicably, it had long since been dashed. Both girls had been removed from classes on more than one occasion due to the ferocity of their “debates” whenever the subject of faunus was broached. Weiss adamantly refused to train with Blake, and Blake tacitly agreed, no matter how Ruby or Yang might prod and cajole them both.

Mostly Ruby, Blake noted. The feud brewing between her monochromatic teammates seemed be the cause of no small amount of distress for their young leader. In truth, somewhere beneath years and years of ground-in bitterness, Blake had to acknowledge that she was right. Their refusal to do so much as train in the same room was actively harming their team, weakening the synergy they would need to be successful. She had spent all of breakfast musing over this, picking at her hash browns aimlessly, head cocked against her other hand. She hated hash browns.

A clatter and muted protest from a couple tables away drew her from her thoughts. Team CRDL was harassing Velvet again, as they so loved to do. They were common bullies, picking on whoever they considered a soft enough target. Once, the skinny twerp with the fauxhawk had made a “pussy” joke in passing, just close enough behind Blake’s back to make sure she heard. The panic on his face when he found himself pinned to the nearest wall by an elbow and a merciless glare had been delicious. It had only happened once, and the entirety of CRDL now gave Blake a wide berth.

Instead, they had shifted their attentions to someone with duller claws. Blake’s eyes slowly narrowed as the team closed in on the lone girl; invading her space, knocking aside her things, taunting her incessantly. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but they were steadily getting bolder. The proverbial camel finally gave out when the ringleader of the bunch, Cardin Winchester, gave one of the meek girl’s long ears a rough tug, earning a pained yelp from her and raucous laughter from the rest of his team. The laughter died moments later when Blake materialized behind him, staring with eyes that only just belied a brewing fury.

“Hello, Winchester.” The larger boy went stock-still.

“…Belladonna.” An acknowledgement of her presence, carefully devoid of any hint of nervousness.

“I hope I don’t need to remind you that bullying is vehemently discouraged. Both by Beacon and by...” She paused for effect. Though she would never admit it, Blake had begun to pick up an affinity for the dramatic, probably osmosed from Yang. “Certain other relevant organizations.” Word of her affiliation with the White Fang had steadily disseminated throughout the school – likely due in no small part to the loose lips of a certain white-haired teammate. Trusting that Cardin’s fear of the name would outweigh his stubborn pride was risky, and Blake guiltily recognized the harm inherent in her fear tactics. Still, with the four of them together it was her best bet.

A tense moment passed, prolonged and brittle enough for Blake to worry that she’d only invited more trouble. The tension broke, though, when Cardin huffed and jerked his head towards their usual table. The offending team stalked off, muttering racial insensitivity that made two sets of very sensitive ears twitch. Blake sighed, half in relief and half in frustration, and sat beside Velvet, who mumbled a vague thank you.

Velvet was difficult to gauge. She was friendly within her team, and courteous without it, but never more than that. Faunus all found their own ways of coping with the stress of being surrounded by humans, sure, but most allowed at least _some_ insight as to who they were behind the mask. Trying to read Velvet was like tracking in a thunderstorm. If she left any tracks at all, anything to read into, they were long gone before they could ever lend insight. Cats and curiosity have a long history.

“Velvet…” Blake trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Hm?”

“Why do let them push you around?” Her tone was level, but there was an odd look in her eyes, something skirting curiosity, concern, and hurt. Once it was clear that Blake wasn’t going to expound, Velvet sighed and shook her head gently.

“There’s really no point in-“

“Velvet.” Blake’s voice dropped to a something just below a whisper; to human ears she would have been mouthing the words silently. “Please? One faunus to another, I’m worried about it. They’re getting worse.”

“You’re right, I know.” Her voice had dropped to the same subaudible murmur. “It’s a bit of a story.” When Blake only gave a slow, expectant nod, the older girl glanced away for a moment before raising her voice back to a conversational level. “I was just going to head to the gym; it’s usually empty this early. Care to join me?” Blake nodded and replied in the affirmative, a bit more cheerfully than she felt. She mused that their conversation would have sounded profoundly odd to the casual eavesdropper.

The walk to the gym was silent. As they came to the door, Velvet fished a key from the pocket of her uniform and unlocked it. Blake cocked an eyebrow. “Usually empty?” Velvet shrugged and grinned back at her as she opened the door.

“Usually. I’m not the only one with a key.” Small wonder her training routine was a mystery to everyone outside her team when she took such lengths to keep it so. The door closed behind them, and the lapine girl exhaled deeply. “A lot happened last year.” Her uniform was discarded, tossed vaguely in the nearest corner, revealing a red sports bra and snug black shorts. She set about stretching, wincing occasionally as any lingering stiffness was pulled from her limbs. “Things weren’t always… _I_ wasn’t always…” She trailed off, looking contemplative as she pulled an elbow behind her head.

“…Such a closed book?”

“Something like that, yeah.” She grinned apologetically, then turned somber. “Then that business with the Fang that winter…” she shot a searching look at Blake, who nodded and folded her arms.

“It can’t have been easy.”

 “It wasn’t.” She finished up her stretching and dropped into a loose sparring stance, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, occasionally feinting or throwing blows. “There were only a handful of other faunus around to begin with, and most of them dropped off the radar when things started getting tense. Any human friends I had managed to make started avoiding me or got outright hostile. If it weren’t for my team I probably would have dropped out.” With the next bounce she pushed her legs back and fell into pushup, her palms thumping loudly on the mat. She continued talking between each huffing breath. The motion was fluid, practiced; the long sleeves of her combat uniform hid a surprising amount of muscle. “The usual racist teasing turned into full-on harassment by spring. The staff did what they could to curb things… but they can’t be everywhere.” She paused her workout and sat cross-legged, tonguing her cheek and taking a not-quite-steady breath. A long moment passed, Velvet staring at her hands, before she spoke. When she did their eyes met, and the look on her face was a blade in Blake’s heart. Years of hurt and betrayal forced down again and again and again, only to bubble to the surface in these rare vulnerable moments. “I found a pair of rabbit ears, nailed to the door of our room.” She bit her lip, steadying herself. “Real ones, from the… smell. I still don’t know if they came off an animal or…”

“Oh, Velvet…” Blake moved from her spot by a wall and sat gingerly on the mat beside her. She brought an arm to Velvet’s tense shoulders. “Is it okay if I…?” Velvet nodded, and Blake set about gently running a hand across her back, steadily easing the tension until her breath steadied and her shoulders finally relaxed.

“A-anyway…” Velvet took a deep breath, collecting herself. “After that I just… withdrew. How could I not? Ozpin managed to find out who did it and was _very_ public about expelling them. Still, the damage was done. If you’re ever wondering why I don’t stand up to Cardin and his crew, that’s why.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Two parts fear, one part trauma.” They sat for the span of a few slow and steadying breaths, side by side in companionable silence, until Blake spoke, gentle as she knew how.

“Thank you for sharing all this with me Velvet. I know it wasn’t easy.” She smiled at her, the sad smile of those who have shared a common hardship, and survived it. Velvet shook her head, standing and offering a hand to Blake and lifting her to her feet with surprising ease.

“Thank _you_ for listening. Talking about it, telling someone… It helps.” She turned away from Blake and headed off towards the line of treadmills across the gym. “It _also_ helps not being the only faunus on my team. But I’m sure you know all about that, right Blake?” She shot Blake a teasing grin over her shoulder and waved. “See you around!”

Bewilderment sat heavy on Blake’s face as she slowly processed the parting words. “What?”

“Wait… _What?_ ”


	2. Everything Is Simpler in Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake gives Yang, Ruby and Velvet the long version.

The drooping sun dappled Team RWBY’s dorm with golden light, casting the quiet room as if in amber. Blake lay on her bunk, head propped up on one hand, curled up with a new novel borrowed from the library's somewhat limited selection of fiction. Ruby and Yang sat at the foldout table the team stashed under Ruby’s bunk, murmuring occasionally as they compared notes. Ruby’s diligence had surprised the whole team; none of them had expected her to take her position as leader so seriously. She had thrown herself into her work with all the enthusiasm she demonstrated on the battlefield, and with all the dedication she showed to Crescent Rose. Whatever she lost to youth and inexperience she more than made up with sheer, unrelenting effort.

The evening had been peaceful, due in no small part to Weiss’s absence. She and Blake had far from settled accounts, and recently Weiss had taken to studying in the library when dusk came around. For what it was worth, Ruby and Yang seemed to mostly take Blake’s side in their conflict; the sisters hadn’t had Weiss’s meticulously insular – and deeply racist – upbringing, and while they hated to see their teammates fight, they were understanding of Blake’s inability to simply live and let live. The hell of it was knowing that things couldn’t _stay_ like this. Something had to give sooner or later, whether it was a change in attitudes or a change in teams. Actually _speaking_ to Weiss about the matter had proved impossible, though. Blake had tried – three damn times – and every time it was the same; Weiss would mutter something deprecatory and whisk away before Blake could get another word in, and if she _tried_ she’d be staunchly ignored.

A soft buzz from her scroll dragged Blake from her thoughts; she had been on the same page for a good 20 minutes.

                  _hey blake, you busy?_

It was Velvet. Blake cocked her head slightly and tapped out a reply.

_no, just reading_

The response was almost instantaneous.

_if you dont mind i was hoping i could come over and talk for a bit_

_last time we talked it was all about me, i want to hear your side of the story_

_about last winter, i mean_

Blake hesitated and bit her lip briefly. She _had_ planned to tell them the whole story at some point anyway.

                  _ruby and yang are here, but if you dont mind that feel free to come by_

This time Velvet’s reply was much slower.

                  _is weiss there?_

Blake couldn’t quite suppress the grin that danced across her features.

                  _shes studying at the library, shouldnt be back for another couple hours at least_

It didn’t take much thought to figure out why she had asked.

                  _ill be over in 15!_

Blake set her scroll aside and cleared her throat gently to catch her teammates’ attention. "Velvet’s coming over for a bit, just so you two know. She should be here in 15 minutes or so.”

Yang cocked an eyebrow. “Velvet? I didn’t realize you two were friends. She... pretty much keeps to herself.”

Blake shrugged vaguely with a slight smile. “We’ve talked a few times. She wants to hear about what happened with the Fang last winter.”

 Yang nodded. “I can hardly blame her. Even at Beacon, that must have made things tough. I’d want the whole story too.” Yang began to close up her notes, motioning for Ruby to do the same. In time there was a gentle knock at their door, and Blake rose to answer it. Once inside, the lapine girl waved to Ruby and Yang with a small smile.

“Hey Velvet! Good to see you.” Ruby stood from where she'd been sliding the table back under her bunk and smiled amicably. “Feel free to crash anywhere.” She scratched the back of her head idly. “I get the feeling Blake wasn’t kidding when she said it was a long story.” Blake and Velvet sat beside each other on Blake’s bunk, while Yang climbed up to take Weiss’s and Ruby crashed on her own.

Blake took a long, silent moment to gather her thoughts, biting down gently on her lower lip. “The _whole_ story is as much about me as it is about the Fang. There’s… a lot of context you all should know. You two especially.” The last sentence was accompanied by a glance across the room at the human part of her audience. “Velvet, you probably already know a bit about the Fang; how we operate, what we do.”

Velvet nodded. “The academy I attended before I came here didn’t allow Faunus. They didn’t have an official rule or anything, but no Faunus had ever been accepted. It was easy enough to see why. The White Fang caught wind of it after they denied my application, and two months of striking and picketing later I got a letter saying that they had ‘reviewed my application’ and changed their minds.”

“That’s a lot of what we do. I’ll start at the beginning.”

 

* * *

 

Blake’s memories of a time before she was with the White Fang were foggy and uncertain; leafy canopies, the smell of seawater, no two nights sharing the same sky or ceiling. She had been five, or somewhere thereabouts, when Adam Taurus had first found her. He had discovered her in an alley, peering out with wide eyes at a Faunus rights march in progress. He had offered her a hand, concern painting his features when she shied away. When the first round of tear gas canisters landed among the protesters, one ricocheted into Blake’s alley, and between her heightened senses and young body it was only seconds before she lost consciousness. Adam, as she later learned, had torn a strip from his sleeve to cover his mouth and nose before wading through the worst of the gas to drag her to safety.

From that day on the Fang became her home and her family. It wasn’t as though she had had many options; whatever had led to her hiding in a filthy alley behind a dollar store on the wrong side of town, no family had ever come to claim her. As time passed and she grew older, she began to take on an active role in the Fang’s operations, at Adam’s encouragement.

_A lot of humans have a skewed idea of what exactly it is that the White Fang does, Blake explained. A lot of that stems from news corporations backed by people and businesses that don’t like the idea of Faunus getting ‘uppity.’ If the news is all you go by, you’re going to hear a lot of stories about small businesses closing their doors after pressure from the Fang, humans attacked while walking through Faunus neighborhoods, that sort of thing. Two summers ago there was even a story about the Fang blowing up a dust shipment. When the police actually investigated, it turned out the SDC was just cutting corners on storage regulations to save on shipping costs, but there was never a retraction of the original story._

_Most of what the Fang actually does is community outreach. Faunus-heavy districts in large cities tend to turn into food deserts, so we set up food shares, teach people how to set up subsistence farms in empty lots, that sort of thing. Everyone knows about the protests, and a couple members are lawyers who do Faunus rights cases pro bono. When things get tense we’ll have members patrol the riskier places in groups, in case anyone gets it in their head to go firebomb a Faunus-run business or apartment complex. I pitched in whenever there was a sit-in or a march, of course, but mostly I did courier work, making sure messages and deliveries got where they needed to be when they needed to be there.  
_

Blake had been 15, or somewhere thereabouts. There was nothing particularly risky about what she was doing; riding shotgun with another member – a grizzled, middle-aged man with several of the points cracked off of his antlers. They were driving a pickup loaded heavy with food destined for a small Faunus settlement on the outskirts. The old buck accompanying her was a stickler for caution, however, and always insisted on bringing a machete (for himself) and a pistol (for whoever might be with him). They were still 20 miles from the settlement when a Beowolf darted into the truck’s path. Blake had lurched forward with the impact and bashed her head on the dashboard of the truck, and was already unconscious when they swerved off the road and into a tree.

A team of huntresses working to clear the area of Grimm found her a week later, huddled in the wrecked cab of the truck – alone – with an empty pistol and a bloodstained machete. From them she learned about the hunters and huntresses who defended the civilized races of remnant, how they trained, their weapons, their lifestyle, and most importantly _why_ they so willingly threw themselves into harm’s way. The words sparked a hunger in Blake’s young heart, and shortly after her return to the Fang she enrolled in the first academy that would accept her.

The rest _would_ have been history, but for last December. Nothing could have prepared Blake for what she found when she returned to the Fang on winter break. Adam, as he explained, had grown weary of the inching progress and tedious pace of peaceful resistance, and urged to replace it with militant opposition. He and an inner circle of conspirators had outlined plans to transform the Fang from its current state into a veritable militia. Adam’s eyes, the same eyes that had once been so full of empathy, held naught but fire and blood as he eagerly explained to Blake his scheme to hijack a large shipment of red dust, redirect it to SDC headquarters and, as he hissed between clenched teeth, “go for the throat, like we should have done years ago.” He had probably expected Blake to jump at the chance to strike back at a source of much of the hardship in their lives, rather than to firmly apply five fingers and a palm to the side of his face.

_Blake paused for a time, eyes on her steadily whitening knuckles. The worst part wasn’t even that he wanted to militarize, she finally continued. It was how easy it would have been to support him. If I'm being honest with myself, it was a good plan. Changing laws, changing minds… those things happen at a snail’s pace if they happen at all. Decades of clawing along on the bottom rung of society, relying on one another just to survive… it’s exhausting, plain and simple. The SDC has been exploiting Faunus workers and throwing its weight around to keep us exploitable for ages, and Adam’s plan would have been a bullet to their collective kneecaps. The only thing that stopped me going along with it was the thought of who would pay the price for our militancy. Not us, not once we took up arms. It would be the kids on the street, the shop owners, the families we were doing all this_ for _in the first place. I could never go through with it knowing that I’d be putting someone else in the line of fire._

So she’d rounded up everyone she trusted and relayed Adam’s plan. They had done the same, disseminating the news until Adam had woken up one day to a very large group of very upset Faunus outside his bedroom. He and his conspirators were ousted from the White Fang as publicly as possible, and with enough urging they had convinced several news organizations to publicize the affair. Tensions between the Fang and law enforcement, which had been steadily growing over the course of the plot, eased greatly when Adam’s group was evicted; the act was taken as confirmation that the Fang could self-police. The White Fang had never had any sort of formal leadership or hierarchy – members adopted roles they were comfortable in and respected enough to fulfill – but Adam and many of his compatriots had been vital to the organization’s day-to-day functioning. Blake stayed with the Fang throughout the spring and summer, stealing just enough time away to graduate from her academy in time to apply at Beacon.

 

* * *

 

“…And you all know the rest.” The sun had set fully by the time Blake finished, and the room was quiet for a long moment.

Yang gave a low whistle. “Hell of a life you’ve had, Blake.” Ruby nodded slowly in agreement, and Velvet brought a hand up to rest on Blake’s shoulder.

“Thank you for sharing all of that Blake. I know how hard revisiting that sort of thing can be.”

“Like you said the other day,” Blake’s weary smile drifted back to her face. “Talking about it helps.”

Just then, and it _would_ be just then, the door clicked open. Velvet winced and stood hastily. “I-I should probably get going. Talk to you later, Blake.” She left the room just as Weiss entered, carefully avoiding the other girl’s venomous stare. Weiss kicked the door shut behind her and huffed, striding into the room haughtily. “ _One_ of them was bad enough. If this keeps up I’m really going to ha- _what_ are you all staring at?”

“Weiss.” Blake’s voice was steel and frostbite. When the shorter girl turned Blake was there, standing just close enough that Weiss had to tilt her head slightly to make eye contact. “I think it’s time we did some sparring. Don’t you?” There was nothing in her expression but cold fury. Weiss’s constant belittling of her was bad enough, but targeting Velvet was another matter entirely.

Anxiety sat heavy on Ruby’s features. Much as she had encouraged the two to practice together, there was no way this could end well. “Guys, I do-“

“Yes, Blake. I do. Tomorrow, before lunch?”

“Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I may wind up writing Blake's story here as its own story. This way of communicating it doesn't drag out quite so long, but it sounds a bit detached? I dunno, maybe I'll revisit it eventually.


	3. Backfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weiss and Blake duel.

Weiss Schnee was conflicted. She was also unused to feeling conflicted, and was not handling it well. Faunus were untrustworthy and duplicitous by nature; she knew this, had always known it. And yet the more she thought about _why_ she knew it, the less certain she became. Weiss Schnee _hated_ being uncertain. She was unable to pinpoint the origins of her prejudice against the Faunus, and thus she was left only with two possibilities. The first was that her distrust was instinctual, a sort of evolutionary defense against the wiles of the Faunus. This theory faltered, unfortunately, in the face of the attitudes held by many of the other students at Beacon. She could easily explain away Ruby and Yang; they had simply been duped, most probably by Belladonna. Pyrrha Nikos, on the other hand, was all but flawless. She was studious, unmatched in one-on-one combat, and possessed of a sharply tactical mind. Weiss couldn’t imagine her being deceived so readily, and yet she was on good terms with both Belladonna and Scarlatina. Team CFVY flew in the face of her theory as well; they were second-year students, _good_ ones, and yet the whole team held Scarlatina in high regard.

Her first theory likely failed, then. The _second_ , however, was what had her in this damnable state of inner turmoil to begin with. It was simple: _she_ had been duped, trained into bigotry her entire life. The idea was not so far-fetched; she knew her father held no love for Faunus. If such were true, however, it would mean that her appraisal of Faunus as a species was not infallible; she might even be _wrong_. It was unthinkable. Her nagging doubts had been eating at her all semester, to the point where she could hardly stand to be in the same _room_ as Blake. The Faunus girl’s presence kept her from simply burying her conflicted feelings and carrying on; she was _maddeningly_ stubborn.

A detached part of Weiss recognized the effect she was having. Ruby was a nervous wreck half the time thanks to Weiss’s refusal to train with her feline teammate, Yang rarely spoke to her, and Belladonna herself avoided her wherever possible. Occasionally the Faunus girl would offer some form of olive branch; an offer to train together, advice on her technique, and the like. Each and every time, though, Weiss’s conflicted feelings would bubble to the surface once again, and she would find herself torn between her burned-in sense of superiority, mistrust of her father’s teachings, and her own experience with the Faunus at Beacon. Everything she had been taught was conflicting with everything she was experiencing at Beacon, and the slow burn of it all was getting to her, making her lash out, simply because she hadn’t the slightest clue how to handle things.

Now things had finally come to a head. Weiss had hardly accomplished a thing during her sojourn to the library, so consumed had she been by frustration and introspection, and she had allowed that frustration to rear its head when she returned to find Scarlatina in the team’s room. Belladonna hadn’t taken kindly to her jab at the other girl, and now here Weiss was, fiddling with Myrtenaster just outside the dueling room. Belladonna was inside, waiting for her. Nervousness gnawed at Weiss’s gut, the acidic feeling that she had bitten off more than she could chew. She shoved it down with a deep, steady breath. Belladonna was dangerous, certainly, but so was she. She would not be rattled so easily, and she would _not_ lose. She stood swiftly, Myrtenaster in hand, and strode through the door to the arena.

Blake stood with folded arms, tracking Weiss with her customary predatory glare. Was it customary? Weiss had to assume so, given how frequently she was on the receiving end of it. The two silently moved into position, facing one another with their weapons at the ready. Blake moved first, rushing in with blinding speed. As they clashed Weiss could just make out a low snarl, nearly masked by the ringing steel. Blake fought with unmistakable fury, ferocious strikes delivered in rapid flurries, time and again.

Weiss dodged and countered again and again, making heavy use of her reserves of blue dust to stall, redirect, and keep the endlessly charging Faunus at bay. As their match drew on and her breath grew ragged, strategy began to lose ground to growing frustration. The damned cat never _stopped!_ For all her skill and careful maneuvering, she had spent the entire match on the defensive, and _still_ had taken more than a few glancing blows. She gritted her teeth as their blades clashed yet again, swiping Gambol Shroud away and driving Blake back with a burst of ice that drained the dregs of her blue dust. Sweat dripped from her chin and she adjusted her grip on Myrtenaster. Her rival was already readying Gambol Shroud for another charge, and Weiss was too worn down from her relentless assault to defend against it. Faced with the alternative of surrender, though… She swiveled Myrtenaster and primed her untouched reserve of red dust. She would _not_ lose. Not to Belladonna, not to _any_ Faunus. She charged forward to meet Blake, Myrtenaster drawn back for a final attack.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she thrust the blade toward Blake’s breast.

Blake’s eyes shot to Myrtenaster’s chamber just as it drained itself completely, ready to fire.

Her expression shifted to shock, then panic.

She swung Gambol Shroud in a desperate block, striking Myrtenaster near its point and forcing the blade away from her body.

The dust fired. It coiled around itself languidly in midair, almost beautifully. Then it drew together suddenly, condensed to a single point.

Weiss’s eyes grew wide as her mistake dawned on her. She had fired too much.

A sudden impact launched Weiss backwards, away from the volatile dust. Blake had used the momentum from her rush to throw Weiss clear of the impending blast.

Blake curled as tight as possible, shielding her face with her arms.

For a single, terrible instant, the world became fire and deafening noise.

Then it was over, and the silence in the room held a terrifying finality. Through the ringing in her ears and the red-tinted smoke obscuring the room Weiss stood unsteadily, coughing into one hand. “Blake…?” No response. Panic gripped her chest. “Blake!” The crimson-tinted smoke began to clear, and Weiss’s eyes widened at the sight of a battered heap on the floor, still trailing smoke. “ _Dust_ …” She rushed to Blake’s side and gasped lightly at the damage. The force of the blast had lifted Blake bodily and flung her into a pillar, hard. Her left side had been badly scorched, though her arms had taken the worst of what would otherwise have reached her face. Her _right_ , on the other hand, bore no burns, but rather a slowly spreading crimson stain, seeping through her clothes. “Oh, _dust_ …” The Faunus girl was unconscious, but after a moment the shallow rise and fall of her chest gave Weiss some measure of relief. She fished her scroll from a pocket, grateful that had survived the blast, and called for emergency aid. “Do _not_ die on me Belladonna… not after what I just did.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was dawn when Blake opened her eyes. Getting her bearings proved difficult; her thoughts were clouded and hazy. She was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, and there was a pervasive numbness in her limbs. She attempted to sit up, only for the numbness to turn suddenly to burning agony, lancing suddenly down her sides and bringing with it the memory of what had put her in her current state. The soft rustle of fabric from beside her bed caught her sensitive ears, and she turned her head, wincing at the stiffness in her neck. Weiss was asleep in a chair beside her bed, a large bandage concealing much of the right side of her neck and face. Blake sighed at the sight of her, but her breath hitched and the sigh gave way to a painful cough.

Weiss jerked awake at the sound. “Bella- Blake? I’m so…” she paused and looked down. Guilt and apprehension were written clearly in the whiteness of her knuckles and the bags under her eyes. “…I’m so sorry, Blake.” Blake opened her mouth to respond, but her throat was parched. “You must be thirsty, you’ve been out for two days. I’ll…” Weiss trailed off, excusing herself to fetch Blake some water.

After a few tentative sips and several large gulps, she set the glass aside and thought quietly for a moment. “You could have killed me, Weiss.” The other girl flinched and bit her lip, still carefully avoiding eye contact. “You could have _killed_ me.” Blake’s usual stoicism had been ground down, eroded by pain, and anesthetic. There was no stopping the tears that welled in her eyes, no concealing the fear and betrayal on her face. When she spoke it was in a hoarse, pleading whisper. “ _Why_ , Weiss? Why do you need to _hate_ us? What did I- what did _any_ of us _do?_ ”

The hurt behind the words sank into Weiss’s chest like a blade. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I… I owe you an explanation, Blake. I owe you much more than that, but… an explanation, at least.” She wrung her hands nervously as Blake nodded, watching Weiss with her brow furrowed. “I… am aware that none of this excuses my actions, both in hurting you and in my… cruel behavior to Faunus in general. No words could excuse how I’ve behaved. Maybe it’s selfish of me but… I want you to know.” She took a deep, slow breath. “My father… as I’m sure you’re aware much of the Schnee Dust Company’s success has been built on… inequitable treatment of its Faunus employees. My father believes wholeheartedly that the few protections they are afforded are still better than they deserve. He _hates_ Faunus, more deeply than anyone else I know. He raised me to follow in his footsteps. Before I came to Beacon I had never even _seen_ a Faunus in person.”

Weiss’s gaze drifted down to her hands. “With nothing to go on but what he raised me with… I’ve been acting appallingly. I let my stupid, stubborn pride get the better of me and…” She bit her lip, almost hard enough to break the skin. “And you… I’ve been so _awful_ to you, Blake, but you pushed me clear of the blast anyway! I was… wrong, and cruel, and…” She slumped in the chair, her shoulders sagging. “I’m so sorry.”

Looking back, Weiss would never be sure what she had expected in response to her heartfelt outpouring. A slap in the face, maybe, or some darkly spoken reprimand about two-facedness. Nowhere in her expectations was there room for the kindness in Blake’s voice, and it all but broke her heart to hear. “Weiss.” She lifted her eyes at her name, finally allowing herself eye contact. The Faunus girl sighed, considering her words. “I’m… not ready to forgive you yet. I’m sure you can understand why. That said… I’m glad you want to turn things around. Maybe someday we’ll even get along.” There was a hint of mirth in her eyes, and she reached down to rest her hand on Weiss’s. Weiss’s heart beat a bit faster at the touch, for reasons she couldn’t quite name.

Suddenly, getting along sounded like something she might very much enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In firefighting, a backfire is a controlled blaze used to starve a wildfire of fuel and oxygen.
> 
> this chapter was a bit of a slog to write, mostly because im a big softy


	4. Imperfect Orbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake returns from recuperation and has a talk with the team.

Blake Belladonna winced as she swung her legs over the side of the hospital bed and onto the cool tile floor. Aura therapy worked wonders, sure, but the twist of her torso still shot bolts of discomfort down both sides. Heavy second-degree burns, with some patches bordering the third degree, moderate blood loss, intense bruising, a concussion, and three cracked ribs. Yang had been furious. Weiss had all but vanished – likely as a means of avoiding Yang’s wrath – though she had still checked in on Blake from time to time during her week of convalescence. Blake had asked how she was doing during one of her visits, to which Weiss had turned her frost-blue eyes aside before murmuring “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Blake couldn’t blame her; the accident had forced her to confront a bigoted mindset she could no longer rationalize. Things were far from settled between the two – and it wasn’t as though adding “grievous injury” to the list of reasons not to like Weiss had helped any – but Blake found herself sincerely hoping that they could someday become close.

She stood stiffly, gingerly rubbing out the stiffness in her lower back as she straightened up. Her first day back to training was not going to be a fun one. Yang had thoughtfully left her a change of clothes on the chair by her bed, topped with a handwritten note which read, in Yang’s distinctive script, “ _For when they decide to let the cat out of the bag.”_ Blake couldn’t help but chuckle. Her partner had all but doted on her while she recovered, bringing her food, keeping her current on their classes, and sometimes simply lingering in the room to keep her company. Through their talks Blake had been kept up to date on the goings-on of her team. Ruby was in a veritable panic – apparently someone had loosely suggested that her team’s infighting could see them disbanded. Yang’s expression had soured when the subject of conversation had shifted to Weiss; her customary regal air had evaporated overnight, and for the entire week she had only come to the team’s room to sleep and bathe. Ren Lie claimed to have seen her often in the library, reading every scrap of research, every treatise she could find on the Faunus.

Dressing took somewhat longer than usual, careful as she was to avoid stretching too far or disturbing the bandages still covering her tender sides. As she smoothed and straightened her top, carefully ensuring that the bandages were as innocuous as possible, Blake noticed a slight lump in one pocket. It was another note, the handwriting much smaller and simpler than Yang’s.

_Figure it out yet? –Velvet_

Blake pocketed the note again with a sigh and a small grin. The other Faunus simply refused to drop any hints. Every time they spoke Blake would insist that they were the only Faunus on their respective teams, and each and every time Velvet would simply grin with uncharacteristic mischief and reply “is that so?” She was adamant that both RWBY and CFVY were half Faunus. It made no sense to Blake; heightened senses were an almost universal trait among Faunus, and bundled into that was the ability to smell the difference between humans and Faunus. The difference was subtle, to be sure, but easy enough to distinguish within a couple hours in relatively close proximity. If it were true that Blake had been _living_ with another Faunus for months now, there was no way it could have eluded her.

Team CFVY having another Faunus member was more believable. They were second-years, and as such they rarely interacted aside from Blake and Velvet’s occasional chats. It was still guesswork, though. Fox Alistair came to mind first, though she supposed a name wasn’t _quite_ indicative of Faunus heritage. Besides, he had no (visible) Faunus characteristics. The same went for CFVY’s resident giant, Yatsuhashi Daichi. That left only Coco Adel, who could easily conceal a pair of ears or horns beneath her trademark hat, or a pair of not-quite-ordinary eyes behind her ever-present sunglasses. Still… there was always the chance that she had missed a carefully concealed tail, or a filed-down pair of horns. An investigation was called for, clearly.

 

* * *

 

Blake found the team’s room empty but for the sound of running water from their shared bathroom. It was Yang, judging by the steam leaking from the edges of the door. No one spent as long in the shower as Yang, and no one could stand having the water as hot as she kept it. Blake took the moment of peace to get comfortable, grateful to be back in her own bed. Blake was a creature of habit, in spite of – or perhaps due to – her turbulent upbringing. To call her resistant to change might have been a bit strong, but she often took comfort in the familiar. The bathroom door clicked open, releasing a torrent of hot steam and Yang, clad in a towel that was valiantly attempting to contain her curves, with moderate success. Yang Xiao Long, she noted with a more than a hint of admiration, looked incredible for her age.

Blake blinked with the realization that she had never actually bothered to find out what that age was. Huntress academies operated rather differently than traditional schools with regard to age of enrollment. In particular, they were most frequently organized by ability and by progression through classes. Blake herself was in the somewhere around 22, though she had never known her exact birthday. Somehow the topic had never come up with any of her teammates.

Yang gave a warm grin when she noticed the feline girl across the room. “Welcome back, partner. Glad to see they finally let you out of that stuffy room.”

Blake nodded with a relieved smile. “Hey Yang?” Her teammate responded with an inquisitive hum as she bound up the straining towel and crossed the room to their shared closet. She bent over, facing away from Blake (who did her level best to keep from staring), to fish for her sleepwear. “How old are you?”

“I’m legal, if that’s what you’re asking Blakey,” she shot a grin and a wink over her shoulder at her steadily reddening partner. “I’ll be 21 in March, Ruby turned 19 in July. I dunno about frosty.” She spat the closing epithet with uncharacteristic venom. “I still can’t believe what she did to you, that _utter_ bi-“

“It was an accident, Yang.” Blake let out a tired breath. It had truly been an accident, too. Vindictive as she had been, Weiss would never knowingly take the risk of detonating that much red dust at close quarters. Blake, on the other hand, had been practically feral when they clashed. Years of righteous fury, stoppered time and again in the name of pacifism, had finally been loosed when they fought. The raging emotion had fueled her strikes, had pooled in her chest and mingled with predatory instinct, and she had relished Weiss’s fear. Had Weiss not beaten her to it, Blake couldn’t shake the feeling that she would have been the one to go too far.

Yang rolled her eyes. “At least one of you believes that.” Blake struggled halfheartedly to avoid ogling as Yang ducked back into the bathroom to change.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s tearing herself up about this. I get that I was pr- ah, shit!” There was a thump from the bathroom and a moment of colorful grumbling. “I get that I was pretty hard on her after it happened, and Ruby just kinda… wouldn’t talk to her, but she’s still been taking it really hard. She’s only in class half the time, she never talks to me or Rubes, and I haven’t seen her at a meal since it all happened.” Silence settled over the room. After a moment Yang left the bathroom and leaned with folded arms on a wall, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “I think she’ll feel better when you can get back into training with us. She’s been getting better about her whole… racist thing too. I guess she was serious about it.”

Blake hummed thoughtfully. “About that…” Yang shot her an inquisitive eyebrow. “I get the feeling you all don’t really… know much about Faunus. I was thinking I could fill you all in? If that’s okay, of course. Weiss would probably appreciate it.”

“That sounds great! There weren’t really any Faunus at Signal, so me and Rubes could probably do with the remedial. Once the others get back would be fine, if you’re up for it.” Blake gave an agreeable nod.

 

* * *

 

 

It was sunset by the time Ruby returned to their room, drenched in sweat that glued her tank top and shorts to her skin. She mumbled something unintelligible before stumbling into the shower, but Blake’s sensitive ears caught something about “cardio day.” It was well past the twilight hours before Weiss finally slipped through the door to the room, furtive as she could manage.

Minutes later they were all arranged on their respective bunks, though Yang chose a spot beside Blake rather than above. “So… I suppose I’ll just start with myself.” She paused for a deep breath. “Different Faunus have different visible characteristics of their heritage, even those of the same type. You all know about my ears, of course, but they aren’t my only characteristic.” The rest of her team seemed looked surprised by the news and Blake cocked an eyebrow. “None of you have noticed my contacts? Really?”

Ruby fidgeted. “You tend to wake up way before us, Blake. Except on weekends; then you’re rarely up before lunch.”

“Th-that may be, but I figured _someone_ would have noticed. Anyway, my contacts aren’t just for eyesight.” She scratched at the back of her head. “Though they’re that as well. Let me show you.” She fished a small case from a drawer beside her bunk, then swiped her fingers across her eyes, tucking the contacts into the case and blinking a few times before making eye contact with each of her teammates in turn. Beneath the contacts her eyes were somehow an even more vivid amber, flecked with brighter gold. What made the remainder of the team gasp despite themselves, though, were the vertical slits of her pupils.

Ruby was beside herself, and only somewhat managed to keep her voice level. “Blake oh my god that’s so _cool!_ ”

Ears any less sensitive than Blake’s would have missed Weiss’s soft response, but Blake caught a barely murmured “beautiful…” and it was all she could do to suppress a blush.

Yang, oddly enough, was silent. When Blake turned to look at her again she shivered visibly. Her face was redder than Blake had ever seen it outside a gym, but she held Blake’s gaze as though transfixed. There was something hard to decipher in those lavender eyes, something like… fear? Excitement maybe? Before she could puzzle it out, there was a gentle _ahem_ from across the room and Yang broke away, stammering nervously. “Y-yeah, they’re really… cool.”

Blake cleared her throat before continuing. “A-anyway. Some people find the eyes… unsettling. Hence the contacts.” A chorus of sympathetic nods from her team. “Besides that…” A blush crept unbidden to her cheeks. “Like many other Faunus, I… do not experience menstrual cycles.” She braced for impact.

Ruby and Yang all but shouted. “You _what?!”_ Weiss managed to (visibly) bite her tongue, but there was no disguising the mixture of envy and anger on her face.

“In their place, unfortunately… I do experience monthly…” She paused for a deep breath, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone, choosing to eye the ceiling instead. “… Estrus cycles.” She chewed her lip.

Weiss and Yang looked nonplussed. There was a long moment of thoughtful silence, long enough for Blake to hope it had gone over their heads. Then Ruby’s face morphed from confusion to realization, and from realization to laughter. She clapped both hands over her mouth in an attempt to stifle it as Weiss and Yang eyed her dubiously and Blake buried her face in her hands.

“Never mind Blake, I’m not jealous anymore!” Ruby managed to squeak out between gasps for breath.

Weiss broke her silence at last; Ruby understanding something that had gone over her head was the last straw. “Care to share with the class, Ruby?” Her partner managed to stop giggling long enough to lean up to Weiss and whisper long into her ear. “Oh.” A blush to match Blake’s rushed to her pale cheeks. “ _Oh._ ”

Ruby darted across the room to repeat her whispering to Yang. Close as they were, Blake’s adept hearing caught a quiet “couple days” and an almost silent “like, super horny” as Yang’s eyes slowly widened. Blake was expecting another torrent of laughter, but as Ruby finished her conspiratorial whispering Yang stood suddenly, looking up and away from Blake. “I’m just gonna,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Just gonna, take a quick shower.” Before anyone could comment she had vanished into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

This time, there was no steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I forget to mention it in a later chapter, Weiss is 19 as well in this AU.


	5. Knowing Doesn't Always Make It Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Yang’s got it bad, got it bad, got it bad; she’s hot for catgirl, Blake has a chat with Velvet, and Blake and Weiss share a tender moment.

It was like treading water when you can’t see the bottom or the shore. Like climbing a rope you aren’t _quite_ sure can hold your weight. It was cold fire in your veins, _daring_ you to let your guard down, even for an instant. Words could never describe how much Yang wanted to. Part of her, a large part, _hated_ what the sight of Blake’s real eyes had done to her. Not that she was an expert on the subject, but something about “your cat eyes make me hopelessly, impossibly randy” sounded pretty racist. And the estrus thing… Yang had been trying hard not to think about the estrus thing, and failing miserably. She had been taking more cold showers than hot ones in the month since Blake had filled them in.

It wasn’t as though she’d never been in a relationship; she’d had a boyfriend and couple girlfriends in the past, not to mention her _thing_ with Nora Valkyrie earlier in the semester. She wasn’t sure _that_ could be called a relationship, but it had happened enough times that ‘one-night-stand’ didn’t fit either. There was always a distance in her relationships, though. Ruby said it was a defense mechanism; that she kept her lovers at arm’s length because that way it wouldn’t hurt as much when they left her (or more often, when she left them). Yang had always brushed it off, but _apparently_ that was no longer an option. She and Blake were already close friends, so it was much too late for her _dire_ crush to have the padding of emotional detachment.

The whole ordeal had crumpled Yang’s ironclad confidence like a tin can. It should have been so easy to just _ask Blake out_ or _tell Blake how she feeaaaaaaaaugh_ and that was as far as she ever got. If she weren’t already nervous enough, it turned out she had been right about Blake and Weiss. Once Blake had recuperated enough to get back to training, the two had been slowly but surely drifting together. They had started with simple exercises together, just getting used to the other’s presence as something other than an adversary. Yang hadn’t seen anyone look _that_ anxious on a treadmill since that kid had tried to race Ruby back at Signal.

From there the two had taken to studying together after Ruby had been busy one night and Weiss insisted on a study partner who would actually study. Yang couldn’t help but wonder if it still counted as “studying together” when they would go hours with no sound but the scratching of pencils and the turning of pages. Last week, Blake had asked Weiss to spar again. Weiss had looked like she was about to pass out, but after asking if Blake was sure something close to a dozen times, she accepted. Neither of them had gone all-out during the match, for obvious reasons, but it had been enough to break down the last of the walls between the pair.

And Yang hated it. Okay maybe _hate_ was a strong word but _dammit_ they were starting to look cute together! _She_ wanted to look cute with Blake and it _wasn’t fair._ Still, no matter how envious she might be, Yang refused to let herself come between them. She would just have to let it be, no matter how it pained her.

… Maybe it was time she gave Nora another call.

* * *

It was Coco. It _had_ to be. Blake had been ‘investigating,’ with varying degrees of subtlety, for two weeks now and she was all but certain. Last Monday she had wrapped a single truffle in wax paper and surreptitiously placed it at the far end of team CFVY’s hallway, as far from their room as possible. _Exactly_ ten minutes later, Coco had ‘stumbled across’ it. Either it was a coincidence or she had smelled the chocolate immediately and waited precisely ten agonizing minutes before claiming it. The hat and glasses continued to conceal any Faunus characteristics she might possess, and Blake still hadn’t managed to figure it out by scent; the sharp smell of black coffee never quite left when Coco was nearby. Regardless, Blake was confident enough to ask Velvet.

The lapine girl gave a quiet giggle when she did. “Got it in one. Very astute, Blake! Though I guess now I owe her five Lien. I thought for sure you’d guess Fox.”

“I almost did. I would have if it weren’t for Coco’s constant accessorizing.”

“It is a bit of a giveaway when you’re looking for it, huh?” Velvet tilted her head with a chuckle. “I made sure she was okay with you knowing, in case you were about to ask.”

Blake cocked an eyebrow. “I was _going_ to ask why you’re so certain there’s another Faunus on team RWBY. I doubt I’d have missed the scent for this long.”

Velvet fidgeted in her seat and looked away, dexterously twirling her fork around her thumb. “Well… I don’t, technically.” She raised her hands defensively against Blake’s accusing glare. “I didn’t lie, I swear! Coco’s the one who figured it out, not me. Her sense of smell is the best I’ve ever even _heard_ of, and she’s convinced there’s another Faunus on your team. I don’t know who it is, and if Coco does, she thinks it’s worth keeping a secret from her girlfriend.” The last part was delivered with a bit of a huff.

Blake was long lost in thought, and her only reply was a thoughtful, distant hum. Then her brow knitted and she silently mouthed ‘girl.’ Her eyes shot to Velvet’s. “Wait, girlfriend? Since when?” Velvet went crimson.

“Uh… Tuesday?” Blake only raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the response. “It was my… uh…” She cringed, glanced around furtively, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Time of the month. Remember what I said about Coco having a _really_ good sense of smell?”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” At least their blushes matched, now.

* * *

Finding a peaceful corner in Beacon was never an easy task, but Weiss and Blake had managed. They were nestled in the library’s second-floor reference section, at a table between a wall of probably-outdated encyclopedias and aisles upon aisles of tax-law tomes. They had been quietly sifting through their notes and textbooks for hours, comparing with quiet murmurs that didn’t break the silence so much as they emphasized it. They were nearing the end of their history studies for the day, and had reached a section titled _The Current State of Faunus Rights in the Four Kingdoms._ Weiss flinched noticeably; her notes for this section were a mess. Asking Blake though… was perhaps not very tactful.

She was spared the trouble of deciding when Blake caught sight of the maze of scribbled-out bullet points and scrawled-in margins that passed for Weiss’s notes on the subject. “Had trouble deciding what to write?” Weiss sighed resignedly.

“Trouble deciding what to think.” She ran a hand along her cheek irritably. “Whenever the subject comes up it reminds me of how much I’ve been lied to. Not to mention how much of _this_ ,” she waved vaguely at the textbooks, “Is the fault of my father and his predecessors. How am I supposed to process this? My own damn _father_ , a man I’ve held in the highest regard my whole life, and now I have to accept that he’s been almost singlehandedly holding back the Faunus rights movement for _decades._ ” She dropped her head into her hands and fixed Blake with a weary stare, a strain creeping into her voice. “He was grooming me to be just like him. If he would do all this, what _else_? What else have I been _lied_ to about?”

Blake moved to Weiss’s side, and took the seat nearest her then raised a hand to Weiss’s head tentatively. “May I?” When Weiss nodded, she began to gently run her fingers through the pale locks. They passed a long, silent moment like that, Weiss’s tense shoulders slowly easing as Blake continued. “I may not be the best person to talk to about parental relationships, but… You aren’t him, Weiss. You’re better than he could ever be. Just the fact that you care this much proves that.” Weiss shivered as Blake’s nails ghosted across her scalp. “I- We all care about you, Weiss. Nothing your father could ever do is capable of changing that. I won’t pretend he’s any better than you’ve discovered, but take solace in knowing you’re _not him._ ”

The Freudian ‘I’ caught Weiss’s attention, though she chose not to press Blake on it. “Thank you, Blake. That… means a lot. I haven’t exactly made many friends throughout my life, so knowing I can count you among them…” Blake tensed suddenly, her hand frozen atop Weiss’s head. For a moment, Weiss’s stomach coiled. Had she overstepped her bounds? Was Blake not so quick to call her a friend? “…Blake?” She turned to face her teammate, and found her staring fixedly at the hand on Weiss’s head. “Blake, what are you _doing?_ ” She seemed to be tracing a single curve on the right of Weiss’s head repeatedly. Blake frowned, then raised the other hand and repeated the motion on the left side. Weiss could see a tension building in her teammate, her shoulders were bunching tightly and her brow was steadily furrowing as she continued to trace those same slight curves. Weiss snapped her fingers in front of Blake’s face, giving her a incredulous look. “Blake! I don’t suppose you feel like sharing?” That seemed to snap her out of it somewhat.

“Sorry, I just… here.” She lifted one of Weiss’s hands to the same area she had been tracing, just right of the top of Weiss’s head, between her ears. “You have this…” There was a barely noticeably bump, in a slight curve, on either side. “It’s like a scar…” A tense moment later, Blake’s face darkened into something between horror and fury. She took her hands from Weiss’s and slowly balled them into white-knuckled fists on her lap.

“Blake? What is going _on,_ Blake?” Her teammate’s ears flicked back to lie pinned against her head. Weiss glanced up at the movement and gasped. The shape and placement of the scars on her head… “Blake, you don’t think…”

“I think we need to find Coco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that I'm beginning classes and won't have nearly as much time to write. Yikes! I'll try not to leave the cliffhanger for too long.
> 
> I suppose I can tag one of the pairings now


	6. Anhedonia

Coco Adel was utterly unshakable. It was like there was an invisible buffer between her and any form of bad news; by the time it reached her ears all the sting was gone, leaving just a set of circumstances and possibilities. According to Velvet, during a particularly disastrous mission their team had been separated from the huntress they had been shadowing. Yatsuhashi had dislocated a shoulder while throttling an Ursa, Fox was poisoned by a Taijitu, and Coco herself had run clean out of ammo. She hadn’t broken a sweat. Her weapon had been repurposed as a bludgeon, Yatsuhashi had been tasked with carrying Fox over his good shoulder, and Velvet and Coco’s heightened senses had allowed them to pick up their wayward guardian’s trail before they could be overwhelmed. From start to finish, Coco had never stuttered, never second-guessed herself, and never once doubted her team. She was bedrock, steady and true.

So when two frenzied first-years burst into team CFVY’s room and narrowly avoided decking her girlfriend with the door, she cocked an eyebrow over her ever-present shades instead of lobbing them both back into the hallway. After a hasty apology to Velvet, Blake (that was her name right? Velvet had mentioned her a few times, but Coco always had trouble keeping first years straight) turned to Coco.

“We need your help.”

Velvet glanced between the two before shock crossed her features. So probably not a good thing. “Blake, you don’t think… I mean this is Weiss Schnee you’re talking about! How…” Definitely not a good thing, if it had Velvs this flustered.

“Does anyone care to clarify what, exactly, I’m needed for?”

Velvet fidgeted. “You remember I told Blake you thought there was another Faunus on her team?”

“Yeah? What, you’re not saying that _Weiss fucking Schnee_ is. Oh.” The aforementioned Weiss fucking Schnee was shaking like a leaf and looked ready to bolt. Coco stepped close and took a knee. “Hey, kid.” Dust, she was really freaking out. Eyes wide, pupils like pinpricks, the whole nine yards. “You don’t have to do this, okay? You have to _want_ to know, Weiss. Do you want to know?” Weiss stood stock-still for a long moment, staring at her reflection in Coco’s shades. Then she nodded, haltingly at first, then with more confidence.

“I _have_ to know.”

“Then it looks like you get to find out my little secret too.” Coco stood smoothly and lifted the shades away from her face. Dark copper, with pupils like Blake’s. “The hat’s actually just an accessory. A little misdirection never hurt anyone.”

Weiss looked a shaken. “You’re…” She attempted a few more valiant syllables before clamping her mouth shut.

“I know you’re getting a lot tossed at you all at once, but try to bear with it, okay?” Coco gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re tough, you’ll be alright.” In the corner of the room, Velvet couldn’t help but smile with her. Brash as Coco could be, she had the capacity to be gentler than anyone would expect.

Weiss let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “So, how do you find out?” Coco tapped her nose. “You’re going to… smell me?”

“Faunus have a slightly different scent than humans. It’s a subtle difference, and even more so in your case, but my nose is better than most.” Weiss gave a hasty nod.

“That… makes about as much sense as anything else that’s happened to me today. Go ahead, I guess.”

Coco gave a sympathetic chuckle before leaning in close, close enough for her breath to tickle against Weiss’s collar. Half a minute, then a minute, then two passed like that. Weiss couldn’t pretend she was comfortable with the proximity, but with an effort she managed to keep from leaning away. There was a thoughtful hum by her ear, hen Coco brought a hand to Weiss’s back and slipped it beneath her shirt.

“Wh-what are-“

“Hold still.” It wasn’t a request. Blake’s nervous gaze shot between the two as Coco’s straying hand brushed careful, searching circles against the skin of Weiss’s lower back. After a moment she seemed to find what she was looking for and drew away, only to repeat the motion Blake had made earlier, tracing the scars on Weiss’s head. Finally satisfied, she pulled back a few steps and eyed Weiss, those cutting eyes searching her face as Coco tongued her cheek, searching for words.

“You… might want to sit down.”

* * *

Weiss felt as though she was floating, just a hair above the ground. _I didn’t want to say for sure with just the scent, but_ – Nothing felt quite real, and she didn’t remember walking the halls back, but somehow she had wound up in her room, on her bed. _You have… scars. On your head and… tailbone_ – Blake was murmuring urgently to Ruby and Yang across the room, but the words wouldn’t quite arrange themselves into sentences. _They’re too clean to have come from any accidental injury. These are surgical scars_ – She could see her hands on the sheets, occasionally clenching into fists unbidden. An odd feeling ran in streaks down her face, alternating wet warmth and cool air. _I won’t press you on the whys or hows; I can’t imagine it would do any good. There’s no doubt though, Weiss. You’re a_

“Faunus.” Her teammates turned in unison to the source of the hollow mumble, worry heavy in their eyes. More murmurs she couldn’t quite make out (had her hearing always been this dull? What else had been stolen from her?). Then Ruby and Blake slipped out of the room together, Ruby casting a worried glance over her shoulder.

“Hey.” Oh. Yang had sat on the bed beside her, and was looking down at her sadly (Had there always been such deep kindness in those eyes? How had she never noticed?). Weiss was expecting a lecture, perhaps. Maybe a half-hearted attempt at humor. Instead, she started slightly when Yang simply ran a hand through her hair without a word, careful to avoid the scars atop her head. It was grounding, somehow; the gentle, rhythmic touches became a quiet, insistent point of attachment to reality.

Somehow she found herself cradled in her teammate’s arms, those fingers still running steady through her hair, and now gentle whispers met her ears, reassurances and words of comfort that made her chest tighten. It was a long time before she lifted her weary head to meet Yang’s eyes. There were no words, not yet, but the choked, heavy sob Weiss gave as she shifted to cling tightly to Yang felt like the first rainfall after months of drought. _Then_ the words came, in a flood of hoarse and broken fragments; fear and betrayal, rage and sorrow all caught up in the tide.

Yang had never known how to soothe with words, but there were no words for a wound like this. So she held her through it all, let the furious surges of emotion break against her like waves against the shoreline. She held her like she had held Ruby, when the night terrors became too much and memories of a mother long gone danced behind her eyes. It hurt to see Weiss like this, Yang realized. When Blake had gently shepherded the nearly catatonic girl into their room, Yang had almost expected to be _glad_ the heiress was finally getting her comeuppance. Then Blake had pulled her and Ruby aside and filled them in.

No one deserved what Weiss’s father had done to her.

Eventually her sobbing eased. The tremors that wracked her small frame drew still and the hands clutching at Yang’s back slid down to the sheets. Weiss was utterly spent, and her whisper was so soft Yang nearly missed it. Nearly.

“I love you, Yang.”

Yang’s heart all but melted in her chest. There was a long, thoughtful silence before she leaned in to place a gentle kiss on Weiss’s forehead. “Love you too, Weiss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its time to tag the real ship hell yeah


	7. Reclamations and Reparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weiss picks up the pieces, as best she knows how.

_Damn, damn, DAMN. Damndamndamndamndamn. You’re a mess, Xiao Long, a GOTdamn mess._ One helpless crush for probably-reprehensible reasons had been bad enough, but _two?_ Whatever fleeting hopes she may have had about the whole _thing_ with Blake working out well were well and truly dashed now. Her Blake-crush hadn’t even done her the courtesy of abating; if anything it had only become more and more dire as time passed. Every now and then she would wake up early enough to catch sight of Blake before her contacts were in place, and a couple weeks back Blake had left Beacon for a couple days. She had simply packed a change of clothes after Grimm studies and left for Vale. No warning given, no explanation offered – though Yang couldn’t help but notice the ruddy tint to her cheeks and the slight labor to her breath as she slipped out the door. _Damn, damn, damn._

And now she was stuck with another hopeless crush on _Weiss_ , of all people. Yang wasn’t sure she could _count_ the number of times she’d wanted to throttle the stuck-up little princess. Now, though… after all that had happened over the semester it was impossible not to sympathize. She was the product of a deeply insular, prejudiced upbringing – one that, as she had just found out, had trained her into a deep hatred of her own kind. Beneath everything her father’s cruelty had etched into her psyche, though, there was something beautiful in Weiss. She held a poise and grace that sank deeper than her posture, or her fighting style, or even her demeanor. A month ago Yang would have called it ‘prissy’ or ‘pretentious’ but now she saw it more as Weiss’s own brand of resilience. She had seen Weiss pushed past what she could bear, seen just how _fragile_ it left her. Yang would go to some pretty fearsome lengths to never have to see her like that again.

_Damn, damn, damn._

* * *

Weiss reached up to scratch idly at the bandages on her head before she caught herself. It itched. A week had passed since her already unstable world had been utterly inverted, and in true Schnee form, she was getting used to it. Not that she was _okay_ , far from it. But the initial shock had gone, and she was making progress. Progress her _vile_ father would hate her for, and that made it all the more satisfying.

She had been a mess for the first couple days after finding out the truth of her heritage. Her teammates had been kind enough to fabricate reasons for her absence from class, though, and her professors had been kind enough to refrain from pressing on them. Most of those days had been spent in her room, nestled close to Blake through the worst of it.

When she had felt stable enough to leave their room, she had gone to speak at length with Velvet and Coco, at Blake’s urging. _Fellow Faunus_ , came the realization as they spoke. She was still processing it, in truth, but the jolt of awareness as they sat together was jarring nonetheless. Coco confided in her in a bit more detail; she was a fox Faunus, though with only the eyes to go on most assumed she was some manner of feline. Her heritage was something of an open secret; as she explained, she maintained the façade out of habit more than anything else, nowadays. Velvet had been the key to her steadily increasing confidence, in fact. Coco spoke in admiring tones about how inspiring her bravery had been last year, during the months when being a Faunus meant having a target on your back at all times.

As they spoke, Weiss had offhandedly lamented the loss of her ears and tail, doubtless removed at her birth or shortly thereafter. Blake and Weiss had nodded in solemn agreement, but then-

“Do you want them back?” Velvet held her startled gaze.

“Do I _what_ now?”

“Do you want them back, Weiss? The ears, I mean. The tail… I’m not sure about.” There was no hint of deception or double meaning in Velvet’s tone. Blake and Coco both looked incredulous.

“Velv, I… don’t think it works like that. You can’t just _re-grow_ an entire body pa-“

“I did.” Velvet’s voice was soft, her eyes downcast. At the heavy silence that followed her words, she pressed on. “I was… eight, I think.” Coco hummed in understanding. She had heard this story. “I was walking home from school when a bunch of the older kids…” Velvet’s brow knitted at the memory. “They had stolen a pair of scissors from the school and… and I tried to run but…”

“Easy, Velvs.” Coco rubbed her girlfriend’s shoulders, easing the tension there. “You don’t have to tell the whole story. I know it’s hard for you.”

“A-anyway… it works. If you were to open the scars again and dedicate your aura to re-healing it… it should reconstruct them. It worked for me.” She twitched an ear to demonstrate. “If you want them, that is. Being a Faunus is risky enough as is, but for you _…_ Think it over.”

And so she had. Blake had insisted on pleading the fifth; she held that whatever decision Weiss made had to be hers and hers alone. For Weiss, the answer was definite – if intimidating. After all that had been taken from her, all that her father had done without her consent… she was finally being offered a chance to hit back, to defy the rail her life had been set upon. Terrifying though it may be, her choice was clear.

Velvet had volunteered to reopen the old wounds, and had instructed Weiss on how to properly heal them. She was to keep the fresh incisions covered – loosely, that was important – and dedicate as much of her aura as possible to the process of reconstruction. This left Weiss feeling perpetually drained, every scrap of spare aura dumped into the complex process of rebuilding long-absent flesh, reconnecting long-severed nerves… Velvet hadn’t specified how long it would take. In her case, it had been about two weeks, though her ears were rather large. “When they’re ready, you’ll know,” was as specific as she would be.

* * *

Weiss reached for the bandage again, but a gentle _ahem_ from her study partner stayed her hand.

“They itch.” It was surreal, really. Blake grinned at her.

“Finally, I have someone on the team to grouse about ear problems with.” Weiss couldn’t help but grin back.

“I can’t imagine Velvet would be terribly sympathetic.” Blake shook her head with a soft chuckle. Silence settled between them.

Blake chewed her lip. “Weiss, I – we-“ she paused for a moment to collect herself, and Weiss cocked her head.

“What is it, Blake?”

“What… what _are_ we?” she shook her head. “I-I mean… _us._ Our… relationship.” Oh. _That_ caught Weiss off guard.

“I… what do you mean?”

“With all that’s happened… are we friends? _Just_ friends, I mean.” Try as she might, Weiss couldn’t quite keep the pink from her cheeks. They had already been drifting close before the ordeal of the last few days, and since then… memories of long afternoons spent buried in Blake’s arms, taking solace in her warm embrace…

“I… don’t think ‘just friends’ really covers it. Not anymore. So… girlfriends? Maybe? I-I don’t really know. I think I would say yes but…”

“Yang?” Weiss’s eyes shot to Blake’s. “We _did_ find you asleep in her arms after… you know.” Weiss sighed resignedly. She’d hardly had time to think about it with everything that had happened, but she had been nursing a crush on Ruby’s boisterous sister since they met. It was silly, honestly, but she was so wild and untamable, so contrary to everything Weiss’s life had been up to now. As a (rather large) side note, the hours Yang spent in the gym did _wonders_ for her physique.

“Guilty as charged, I suppose. Still, it’s just a crush. I could certainly set that aside to give a real relationship a try.” Blake looked oddly pensive, given the circumstances. “What’s wrong?”

“Remember the night I first showed you all my eyes?” Weiss nodded, confused. “Remember the look on Yang’s face when she saw them?” Weiss thought back. Yang had looked… terrified, in a way. Her voice had gone hoarse, eyes wide… _Oh._ It occurred to Weiss that ‘terrified’ was probably not the right word. ‘Lascivious’ maybe.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. I was wondering… would you be willing to give… _us_ a shot? _All_ of us, I mean. You, and me, and Yang. I mean obviously we would have to ask her, and probably talk it out between the three of us but… would _you_ be willing to try it?” Weiss thought a moment before taking a deep breath and responding.

“Blake, over the course of the last semester, I have learned that my father is a glorified slaver, that Faunus are people as much if not more than any human, and, last but not least, that I _am_ , in fact, a Faunus. I am growing an extra pair of ears, which I should have had from birth, as we speak. At this point, dating two of my teammates seems to be pretty much par for the course.” A smile crept unbidden to her face as she explained. Her life had truly, truly, gone topsy-turvy. Blake gave another of her trademark soft chuckles. Weiss couldn’t help but note that not long ago, she had considered a predatory grimace to be Blake’s trademark. How times had changed.

“Alright, then, we’ll talk to her tonight. Toge-“ and suddenly Blake’s voice took on a depth and quality Weiss had never known before, enough to make her gasp at the sudden change. “-ther. Weiss? What’s wrong?”

“I… your voice just-“ another small gasp as she realized what this must mean. Blake beamed at her.

“Your ears…” Weiss reached trepidatiously up to the bandages, peeling them away as gently as she could manage. Her suddenly enhanced hearing took note of the fact that both she and her partner were holding their breath. The bandage slipped away, falling disregarded to the floor.

Shorter than Velvet’s, but taller and wider than Blake’s. Thicker fur than either of theirs, in a snowy white that matched her hair perfectly. They twitched and swiveled, seemingly of their own accord at first, but as they moved and she learned the impulses that controlled them, increasingly under her control. Blake smiled brighter than Weiss had ever seen before.

“Wolf’s ears, Weiss.”


	8. The Path Unwalked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the past settled (for now) team RWBY moves forward.

“ _Ruby! Volume!”_ She hadn’t meant to sound so aggressive, but _dust_ the girl could be loud. Weiss had no idea how Blake could tolerate it with ears like these. She toweled them off as gently as she could, careful to avoid bending the tips backwards. She had rapidly discovered that the feeling was _supremely_ unpleasant.

“Sorry!” Ruby practically shouted, then clapped her hands over her mouth and dropped to a whisper, still clearly audible to Weiss’s newly improved hearing. “Sorry Weiss! They’re just so _cute!_ ” Ruby had taken all of this astoundingly in stride. Weiss, on the other hand, was struggling with the sudden jump in sensitivity. Everything was so _detailed_. It was amazing to her just how much she had missed until now; she couldn’t help but wonder how much Blake pretended to be unaware of. Footsteps in the hall outside their room were not just audible, she had found that, with practice, she could even determine whose they were. Not Blake, though. No matter how she might strain to listen, Blake’s footsteps never made a sound.

Weiss shook her head bemusedly at her leader’s antics, but she couldn’t quite keep the grin from her face. Neither could Blake, apparently. Weiss gave her an exasperated look, and received a shrug in return.

“You’ll get used to it after a while. How are they doing?”

“Better than the last time, that’s for certain.” Weiss shivered. Her first shower with the ears, she hadn’t considered the angle of the water until her tender appendages were thoroughly flooded with scalding water. It had taken _hours_ to get them dry. Blake had told her – through halfheartedly stifled chuckling – that it happened to most Faunus at some point or another, and instructed her on how to pin them flat to keep water out. Considerably more care and maintenance was involved than Weiss had expected, but between Blake and Velvet, she had quickly found herself well-trained in proper ear handling.

_Wolf_ ear handling. Weiss wasn’t sure it’d ever get any less surreal. After a week, the sight of them in the mirror no longer startled her, but to think of herself as _a wolf Faunus, an actual wolf Faunus_ was still a bit beyond her. Her thoughts drifted to her father, as they so often did, and her stomach roiled with tension. A dire storm was brewing between them, one that would soon be brought to bear. Beacon’s winter holiday was rapidly approaching, and her father would doubtless expect her to return home for the duration. Somehow, Weiss did not expect ‘My White Fang member teammate alerted me to the unspeakable cruelty of your business practices, undid your anti-Faunus brainwashing, also we’re dating; oh and I know I’m a Faunus myself and I reconstructed the ears you had surgically removed from my head at birth, with the help of two other Faunus, who are my close friends and confidants’ would make for sparkling dinner conversation in the Schnee household.

And her mother… Weiss had tried to avoid thinking too heavily on the identity of her blood mother. The likelihood that she yet lived was simply too low for Weiss to consider. For the time being she would settle on a much more manageable wellspring of crippling anxiety: returning to classes. She had been nigh on two weeks absent now, and though she had managed to keep up on the bulk of the coursework, end-of-semester exams were approaching. She resolved to return to classes come Monday, giving herself two days to prepare.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the approach of four sets of footsteps. One heavy and plodding, one steady and measured, one quiet even to her ears, and one… skipping? Team JNPR, then. An idea came to mind, and from the look on Blake’s face, she had had the same one.

* * *

“Wait, really?”

“Jaune, that’s the fifth time you’ve asked that.” Pyrrha looked as exasperated as Weiss felt. “You can _clearly_ see her ears. They're moving and everything.”

“I know, I know! It’s just… you? Weiss Schnee? I mean, isn’t your dad-“

“A virulent racist, yes. Though evidentially not without his lapses.” The news had gone over well, despite Jaune’s iron-headed incredulity. Pyrrha was the very image of rationality, as per usual, and had immediately offered her full support, should Weiss ever need it, with Ren nodding silently in agreement. Jaune was… Jaune. It would sink in for him sooner or later. Nora, on the other hand… The usually giddy girl had turned uncharacteristically somber at the news. Weiss snuck a glance over at her, on occasion, but she remained sitting in quiet contemplation. Weiss hadn’t thought Nora Valkyrie knew what contemplation _was_.

“Weiss.” The room went silent at Nora’s tone. Had she _ever_ been this serious?

“Y-yes Nora?” She rose, approached Weiss, and took a knee. Weiss’s ear twitched at the sound of a hard swallow from Ren, who was suddenly looking a bit pale.

“I want you to know, to _absolutely know_ ,” Dust, she was terrifying when she got serious. The look in her eyes could boil water. “If anyone, and I mean _anyone_ , mistreats you because of this, I’ll break their legs.”

“She means that,” Ren chimed in.

“I… thank you, Nora.” Nora didn’t move. She seemed to be waiting for- Oh. Weiss rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, Nora, you can touch them. But be _gentle_.” Her look of gravity evaporated instantly, and her delighted squeal could have peeled paint.

“ _Nora! Volume!”_

* * *

Monday morning came, inexorable as ever. Weiss had hardly slept, tense as she was. It was unreasonable, she knew, but no amount of chiding would stop the anxiety-born scenarios playing out in her mind. She did her best to keep from stewing in worry, though, and occupied herself preening before the bathroom mirror, combing her ears and bushing her hair just to keep her hands busy, until a series of forceful knocks at the door shook her from her reverie.

“Coco? Velvet?”

“Hey, Wolfy.” Perhaps not the most imaginative nickname Coco could have come up with, and perhaps Weiss should have been offended by it, but something about a nickname based on her newfound Faunus blood sent a thrill through her. Velvet was not so lenient, however, and admonished her girlfriend with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“We talked to Professor Oobleck the other day. If you’d like, we can sit in on your classes today? I know I’d want it, if it were me, so…”

Weiss was taken aback for a moment, but rallied. “Y-yes, absolutely! This… this isn’t going to be easy for me.” Velvet gave a sympathetic smile.

“Well, you and Coco will be in the same boat, more or less.” Velvet gave her counterpart an encouraging nod.

“I…” For once, Coco’s confidence looked to be faltering. “I’m… going to lose the shades. For good, I think. I’ve spent long enough hiding behind them. Oop, speaking of.” She checked the time on her scroll. “Time and tide, ladies.”

Weiss took a steadying breath and nodded hastily. “The rest of my team should be waiting by the classroom.”

Their brief trek through the halls of Beacon proved a dose of things to come, and Weiss couldn’t quite keep her ears from pinning back anxiously. She could clearly hear each gasp and confused murmur echo around them, feel every pair of eyes burning into her as they walked. Most of the whispered conversations seemed to be about her, rather than Coco. Weiss wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not; on one hand she _was_ the SDC heiress, but on the other, Coco had made quite a name for team CFVY over their years at Beacon. Perhaps it was because the ears were more noticeable than Coco’s eyes?

Weiss was pulled from her thoughts by a wave from down the hall. True to their word, team RWBY was assembled just outside the door to Professor Oobleck’s classroom. When they drew close, Blake pulled Weiss into a gentle hug.

“I won’t ask if you’re sure about this, but… are you ready, Weiss?” Weiss nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak, and released a breath held captive by apprehension. “Okay. We’re with you, Weiss. All of us, and team JNPR, too.” Another nod, and Weiss reached for the door. She fought to keep her breathing level, to keep her hands steady as she turned the handle, but nothing could stop the way her blood rushed in her ears, how her heart leapt into her throat as the moment neared. She slowly, ever so slowly, pushed the door open, bridges burning in her mind’s eye.

Silence. Tense, unrelenting silence, as every eye in the room turned to look at her. At Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, a corporation as powerful as it was infamous. Daughter of a man who hated the Faunus so deeply that he had done everything he could, for decades, to keep them under his heel. She was all of these things, undeniably, but suddenly they seemed empty; hollow titles bestowed by chance alone. She was what she had made herself, what she had sculpted from the unformed clay life had given her. She was a huntress-in-training, she was a loyal member of team RWBY, and now… now she knew she was a Faunus, true as any other.

No names hold more power than those we give ourselves.

Vaguely, Weiss was aware of her entourage filing into the room and forming up around her. Yang and Coco raked the gawping students with challenging eyes, daring any to speak up with something untoward. From somewhere in the mass of trainees, Nora’s knuckles cracked loudly. Blake guided Weiss to her seat with a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Velvet took a seat beside her, whispering encouragements and reassurances until Weiss felt she could breathe again.

* * *

By the time the day was done, Weiss’s nerves had eased somewhat. Her classmates had been supportive, by and large, especially once her friends had explained the situation in greater detail. The look on Cardin Winchester’s face had been _delicious_. For now, though, she had retreated to the sanctuary of her team’s shared room. Blake luxuriated on her bunk, nose buried in a new book, Yang sat on the floor amid a pile of textbooks, and Ruby prodded and fiddled with some set of capacitors or another at her desk. It was nice, the peace. Almost as though none of them had recently revealed to the entire student body that they were not, in fact, human. She felt eyes on her, and glanced up to see a pair of golden-amber ones meeting hers inquisitively. Ah, right. Yang. She considered shooting Blake a scroll message, asking her to postpone their little chat a few days, but in truth it would serve a welcome distraction from the day’s stresses. She gave an acquiescing nod.

“Hey Ruby?”

“Yeah Weiss?”

“Do you mind running over to team JNPR’s room? I think I left my Grimm Studies textbook with Ren.”

“Sure! I’ll be back in a sec.”

Before Ruby had even left, Blake was already tapping away at her scroll.

_hey nora, mind keeping ruby occupied for a while?_

Nora never replied, but after a Ruby-less ten minutes passed, she had to assume that the message had been received. The room grew silent, no one willing to be the first to speak. Blake and Weiss held an unspoken conversation in exaggerated faces and energetic eyebrows, cut short by the sharp snap of Yang’s textbook closing. She was chewing her lip, eyes downcast.

“I… need to talk to you guys. Both of you.” Okay, _that_ wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Blake was the first to rally. “Actually, we’ve been meaning to talk to you too. What’s wrong, Yang?”

“It’s-“ Yang hesitated, her voice dropping to a grumble that would have been inaudible, had her audience been human. “ _told myself I was gonna do it tonight, so I’m_ gonna _dammit,”_ she straightened up with a deep breath. “I… I have like, the worst crushes on you both. And… for really pretty bad reasons.”

Weiss shook her head and stood. “Okay, we are not having _this_ conversation with you on the floor.” She crossed the room, taking a seat on Blake’s bunk and patting the space between herself and Blake. “Up.” Grumbling, Yang heaved herself off the floor to sit gingerly between the two Faunus. “Now, tell us what you mean by that.”

Yang squirmed visibly. “Well… Blake…” Blake wasn’t sure she’d _ever_ seen Yang so thoroughly cowed. “When – dust, this is hard to say – that night when you showed us your real eyes… I…” she swallowed thickly. “I don’t think there’s really any way to say this that won’t sound racist, but… you just looked so… _dangerous_. I’ve been crushing pretty hard ever since, and it’s the _worst_ thing, because like, how racist is that? And besides, you and Weiss have totally got someth-“ Blake cut her off with a finger, pressed gently to her lips.

“We’re not getting into the ‘me and Weiss’ thing just yet. You’re right Yang, it is kind of racist.” Yang sagged, dropping her head into her hands. “…but, I know you well enough to know that’s probably not the _only_ reason you’re interested. Besides, it’s understandable. They _do_ make me look pretty intimidating.” She gestured at Weiss with her head, drawing another heavy breath from Yang.

“Weiss, I – I don’t know if this is better or worse, but… after all you’ve been through I just… feel driven to protect you. I _know_ you don’t need it and I _know_ it's really condescending but… I dunno, maybe that just sounds like big sister instinct to you, and maybe it is on some level, but somewhere in here,” she thumped herself on the temple for emphasis, “it turned romantic. I dunno. I just…” her hands balled into fists on her lap, knuckles fading to white as she continued. “I’m _so_ attracted to you both, and for all the _wrong fucking reasons_ and you’re probably dating each other or something and-“ she cut herself off with a tired sigh. “I’m sorry.”

A gentle touch on both arms lifted Yang from her morosity. Weiss cleared her throat gently. “We aren’t dating, Yang.” She glanced over the mass of blonde obscuring Yang’s bowed head to grin at Blake. “Not yet, anyway.” Yang raised her head to meet her gaze, brow furrowed with confusion. “We… I think I speak for us both when I say that… we’re interested in you, too. I mean-“ somber as she might try to be, Weiss couldn’t keep the blush from her cheeks. “I mean I know _I’ve_ had feelings for you for… quite a while.”

Yang, somewhere between hope and disbelief, turned to Blake, who smiled with a reassuring nod. “Your reasons aren’t the best, Yang, I won’t lie to you there. Still… we know you pretty well, and I think it’s safe to say those reasons are just… tinder, right? Fuel for the fire. We’re willing to give this a shot, Yang. All of us, together.” Blake’s hand drifted to tuck a wayward lock behind Yang’s ear, though their eyes never left each other. “Are you?”

Yang laughed, the sound choked with straining emotion. “Y- oh, dust, you guys, I-“ She swiped hurriedly at her eyes, fighting to keep her voice level. “I- Of course! I don’t know how…” words weren’t getting her anywhere. Instead, she settled for dragging her protesting teammates – _girlfriends_ – into a crushing group hug. Weiss smacked her shoulder with a bit less heart than usual, and she fell back, laughing from sheer relief, onto the bed, taking them both with her.

When the hug showed no signs of ending, Blake shuffled closer with a grin. Yang was warm. “I think I could get used to this.” Tilting her head up, she pressed her lips gently against the curve of Yang’s jaw.

Weiss draped an arm across Yang’s toned stomach, mirroring Blake’s kiss. “I might be persuaded to agree.”

Yang could only laugh and hold them close, still too overcome for words, until a click from the door and a triumphant “HA!” caught her ears.

“I _knew_ it!” Ruby stood beaming in the doorway, arms akimbo.

“Welcome back, sis. Have fun with Nora?” Yang didn’t even bother to feign embarrassment.

“Huh? Nora wasn’t there, she was out sparring with Jaune. Guess she had a rough day and wanted a punching bag that would cry.”

Blake did some quick mental arithmetic, then leveled an uncomfortably knowing grin at her younger teammate. “Oh, really? Is _that_ why you smell like Pyrrha?” Yang nearly gave herself whiplash looking back and forth between Blake, smirking evilly in her arms, and Ruby, gone pale in the doorway.

_“Blake!”_


	9. Equilibrium

“Hey Weiss, me’n Rubes are gonna head to downtown Vale, maybe get some lunch. Do you, uh… you wanna come with us?”

“Mnugh.”

“Is that… a no? I mean I know you're not feeling good with the whole…” Yang waved at the space behind her lower back. “Y’know. The thing.”

“Gmngh”

“Okay, well, uh… we’re gonna, go? We’re gonna go. Blake should be back from the gym in a half hour or so.”

“Hmnf fng”

“Yeah, we will. Make sure you get something to eat, alright? You've gotta keep your energy up.”

The door clicked shut gently, unusually so for Yang. From where she lay facedown on her bunk, Weiss thanked her silently. A week into Beacon’s winter holidays, and still she could hardly work up the energy to speak. With an effort, she shifted to cast a bleary look at the loosely wrapped bundle of bandages lying along her back and thigh. Still no feeling, still no spare aura. Velvet had warned her -- gently, of course -- that this would be rather more difficult than the ears had been; there was simply more tissue to regenerate.

If the aura fatigue had been taxing before it was all but unbearable now. She lay prone, lingering on the hazy, uncomfortable edge of consciousness. Eventually -- a half hour, according to Yang, though it seemed an eternity -- the door clicked open and shut once again.

No footsteps, the faint scent of sweat, and heavy breathing muted by careful control. “Wlmcm bgh Blgh.”

Moments later a warm hand caressed her forehead, and Blake hummed in soft displeasure. “You still feel clammy. When was the last time you ate?”

“Mm dnf rmnbf”

“Weiss, please roll over.”

She heaved herself onto her side and spoke in a somewhat more audible mumble. “Gonna go to the cafeteria in a minute.”

“Mmm, somehow I don't believe you. Give me a minute to shower and then we can go together, alright?”

“Mngh”

Blake’s hand slid away, and moments later came the droning hiss of the shower. Weiss’s ears twitched; the incredible depth and clarity of every sound that reached them still startled her at times. Under the constant rushing water she could hear the little snap when Blake opened her shampoo, the change in the water’s sound when she turned to rinse her hair. It was comforting, in a way; every sound a subtle reminder of her reclaimed identity.

A bolt of sensation lanced through foreign nerves lighting up for the first time, the shock enough to make Weiss yelp. In seconds the shower had cut off and Blake burst through the bathroom door, her modesty only just preserved by a hastily acquired towel.

“Weiss, what happened? Are you okay? Why'd you-”

The bundle at Weiss’s back twitched, just a bit.

She was watching it with wide eyes, the occasional crease of effort appearing on her brow.

The bundle twitched again.

“Is… is it- hang on, let me get dressed.” She ducked back into the bathroom, emerging moments later in a shirt and pants made form-fitting by the water she hadn’t quite dried off in her haste. She’d change later.

“I… think so. It’s certainly-” the bandages twitched again, and Weiss flinched. “Tender. Very tender. Sensitive.”

“Do you want me to take off the-”

“Y-yes. Please. Carefully. Now that I’ve got sensation, ah… down there, the bandages feel _very_ restrictive.”

Blake set about undoing the wrapping as quickly as she could while keeping her touch gentle, and Weiss’s heart raced despite her weariness. Was it truly ready? What might it look like? Oh, dust, would it have _fur_ yet? Her ears had, but the fur there was much shorter and, well, frankly there was much less of it.

She wasn’t left wondering long.

As the wrapping came undone under Blake’s attention, snow-white fur began to spill free. Weiss ran a hand through it, felt the long, dense hairs part and flow smoothly through her fingers. A bit more effort -- made easier by the steady recovery of her aura, thank _dust_ \-- had the tail falling steadily under her control, just as her ears had done.

“It’s _beautiful_ , Weiss.” There was something in Blake’s voice, a bittersweet note lurking beneath her affection. Blake’s hold on her emotions was steady as ever, and before Weiss could name it the moment had passed. “Do you think you can stand? Or would you rather wait a bit longer?”

“I can try. I’m sure it’ll take some getting used to, but… may as well start now, right?”

She swung her legs over the edge of the bunk, quietly pleased at the way her tail followed, curling around her side without prompting as she sat up. She stood slowly, keeping a hand in Blake’s in case balance failed her.

“I… think I'm okay. It feels alright.” Her tail swished a bit as she spoke, and she glanced over her shoulder to watch it. “This is just as surreal as the ears were. I thought it would feel like, you know, a weight, but it doesn't at all.”

“In the same way your arms don't feel heavy, right?” That odd note was back, a penumbra beneath her smile. “It’s just… natural.”

“... Yes, exactly. Blake, is something-” Weiss took a step, turning to face Blake where she sat on the bed, and stepped squarely onto a long, slender metal cylinder; no doubt a spare component for Crescent Rose that had escaped Ruby’s tidying. Her foot shot out from under her with a jolt of adrenaline at the sudden loss of equilibrium -- and then her tail lashed on instinct, shifting her center of balance just enough to steady her.

When her feet were back on solid ground, Weiss grinned. “You know, I think I could get used to this.”

Blake, on the other hand, was trying halfheartedly to suppress a _rather_ uncharacteristic fit of giggles.

“And just _what_ is so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Blake managed to choke out, clearly lying, “It’s just, your _tail,_ Weiss.”

Weiss glanced over her shoulder and forced the offending appendage to lie still. Faunus or no, Weiss Schnee _did not_ _wag._

* * *

 

“So.”

Ruby’s head hit the table, rattling her plate a bit. _“Yaaaaang.”_

“Pyrrha Nikos, eh? Lil sis goin’ for the big fish?” Yang’s grin could power a small city.

“Yang come _on,_ I haven’t even _mentioned_ that you’re dating half of our team!”

“You were gonna and you know it.”

“Seriously though, half the team? How’d that even happen?” Ruby cocked her head to the side with a grin. “I’m more curious than surprised, really.”

Yang turned sheepish, scratching at the base of her neck. “Uh, it’s a long story?”

“Uh-uh, not gonna cut it. Spill, sis.”

“ _Fine_ , but I get to ask about you and the gladiator goddess. Deal?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Xiao Long. Deal.”

Yang poked at a slice of brisket with her fork, bit her lip as she wrangled the havoc of the past few weeks into something resembling a story. “So… I mean, you have eyes so I’m assuming you noticed Blake and Weiss doing the whole ebony and ivory thing, right?”

“Yang, I would have noticed that even if I _didn’t_ have eyes.”

“Right, not exactly subtle. So, around the time that started happening I got just the _worst_ crush on Blake. Like, you have no idea.”

“The eyes, right?”

Yang dropped her head into her hands. “I am weak, Ruby. I am very, very weak. Yeah, that was… yeah. Big crush. I kinda kept a lid on it though, y’know? They were pretty obviously a thing, so I figured there was nothing for it but to lay off.”

“But…?”

“But nothing, I just kept out of it. Even when I got another, equally terrible crush on Weiss.”

“Oh. Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch. It got so bad I decided I had to tell them, just to clear the air and get it out of my system, but uh… they beat me to it. You know the rest.” The previously poked brisket was finally consigned to its fate, stuffed whole into Yang’s mouth. “It wash a bi’ of a mesh, honeshtly.”

Ruby shook her head with a soft giggle. “Yeesh, sis, way to do it the hard way. I just asked Pyrrha if she wanted to get lunch and talk about weapons; next thing I know we’re makin’ out in the locker room.”

Yang choked on a laugh and swallowed the mouthful heavily. “I should have guessed you’d just go for it. Props, sis. Oh, and since you’re dating the most absurdly shredded girl since, like, me, I have to ask.”

_“Yaaaaang”_

“Come on, out with it; we had a deal. Abs, arms, thighs?”

“Uh… none of the above?” Ruby’s face was steadily turning red as her namesake. “If you haven’t taken a good look at her back, you really should.”

_“Ah.”_

“Yyyyyep. It feels as nice as it looks.” Redder, at this point.

“Okay sister mine, we are toeing the TMI line pretty closely right now.”

“That’s fair.” Ruby took a drink of her strawberry lemonade. A long drink. “That reminds me, am I gonna have to start wearing earplugs to bed?”

Yang gave a lopsided grin and spoke in tones of mock offense. “Why, Ruby, what _ever_ could you mean by that?” Ruby glared -- and it was _adorable_ , she had never quite figured out how to look threatening -- and Yang raised a hand as though taking an oath. “I promise to keep it in my pants, at least while you’re in the room. Not gonna speak for the others, though.”

“Yeah, I’m not too worried about Weiss and Blake.”

“Is that so? Maybe you should be.” Yang stifled a chuckle with another hunk of meat. “‘ou hafn’t sheen thosh booksh Bla’e readsh.”

* * *

 

Weiss pulled her hair free of her customary off-center ponytail and watched it fall to lie in loose waves against her back. Even with a semi-recent trim, it easily reached the small of her back, ending about where her tail now began.

She turned and swished it a bit. Long, but not so long as to reach the ground, especially with the way it liked to curve up and away toward the tip. She was rapidly coming to enjoy its presence; the way it followed the motion of her stride, the instinctive motions that helped her balance, the thick softness of her fur.

Today would be another step in coming to terms with her true self. An ash-grey hoodie borrowed from Blake would be enough to keep warm this early in Vale’s relatively mild winter, and bore none of the conspicuous finery of her own wardrobe. Velvet had been kind enough to lend a pair of jeans -- the sort sold in faunus-run clothing stores, alongside hats designed to accommodate ears, horns, and antlers, gloves and socks reinforced to prevent a set of claws from shearing through them. A small strap at the back of the jeans could be buttoned over nearly any tail, from Weiss’s long, thick mass of fur to Velvet’s little tuft.

One more look in the mirror, one last attempt to shake off the surreality of it all. The casual outfit, the loose hair, and of course the ears and tail conspired to make the girl in the mirror into a near-stranger, if one wearing her face. It was… nice. Nice in a way that had claws, a way that made her stomach twist.

The feeling stayed with her, hung around her shoulders like a warm scarf as she made her way to the second-year dorms.

Swish, swish, swish.

Coco answered the door with her hair mussed and dressed in nothing more than an absurdly large shirt. “Oh, hey Wolfy. Lookin’ for Velvs?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and called over her shoulder. “Hey Velvs, your protégé’s here.”

Weiss quirked an eyebrow. Protégé?

Velvet materialized from somewhere behind the bulk of Coco’s enormous top, looking a tad sheepish after her girlfriend’s comment. “Hey, Weiss. Ready to get going?”

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Velvet smiled warmly. “What more can you do, right? You can never really be ready for something the first time you do it.”

Coco waved goodbye with a huge yawn as they left for the airship to Vale.

“I don’t _actually_ consider you my protégé, in case you were wondering. I mentioned to Coco that I’d like to introduce you to some old faunus culture stuff and she ran with it.”

Weiss shook her head with a rueful grin. “I imagined as much. That said, I wouldn’t mind being your faunus culture disciple, as it were.” Velvet stifled a chuckle and swatted her lightly on the shoulder. “Really though, I… there’s a lot I’ve missed out on about being… this. Being me.”

“Being a faunus.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to stay ignorant of my own culture, even if I didn’t know that’s what it was until a couple weeks ago.”

Velvet beamed. “With an attitude like that, I think you’ll do just fine, Weiss.” They left Beacon’s main building, quiet for a moment as they watched the Bullhead they’d be taking complete its landing, dropping off several students. Passenger flights had to be scheduled or urgent during the semester, but when classes were out Ozpin arranged a daily schedule of arrivals and departures for any students who elected to remain at Beacon. “It’s a shame Blake couldn’t come with us, I’m sure you’d have liked to have her along.”

“I would have, yes, but we’ll be alright. Besides, she’s been trying to arrange this meeting with Professor Oobleck for weeks. Apparently his schedule is… rather busy.”

Student IDs were flashed, seatbelts were buckled, and the ground dropped away.

“Speaking of, I don’t think I ever found out what that meeting was for. Something about revising the history curriculum?”

“Apparently she came into ownership of some old texts documenting the Faunus War, thanks to her connections in the Fang. The catch is that these were penned by faunus scholars who _lived it_. Not many works like them have survived, and Blake insists that they should be integrated into the curriculum.”

Velvet hummed, watching Vale grow steadily closer as they flew. “I hope she gets what she’s after. Families like mine -- from Menagerie, that is -- have our own records of what happened, but historians in the kingdoms have never been particularly interested in hearing them. There’s always something about oral tradition distorting the facts, or the ‘insular, faunus-only culture’ biasing things.”

Weiss blanched. “Insu- how is Menagerie _any_ more insular than the kingdoms? Not one of the kingdoms has _ever_ had faunus leadership, even just in academics!”

A sad smile ghosted across Velvet’s lips, just for a moment. “Now you’re getting it. It’s different because… they want it to be. It suits them. And since they’re in charge…”

“... We just have to put up with it. That’s _awful_.”

“Yeah, it is. We push back where we can. Blake could tell you more about that, though; she’s that particular kind of tough.”

They lapsed again into silence as the Bullhead came to rest, as they headed into downtown Vale. Anxiety began to nip at Weiss's thoughts as they walked; she had never been… _out_ like this. Beyond Beacon’s walls, unmistakably a faunus, simply… going about her business. Running errands. A faunus girl, in Vale, just… running errands.

Weiss shivered at the thought. Still surreal.

They only had a couple stops to make -- one to a faunus clothing store, so Weiss wouldn't have to keep borrowing Velvet's pants, and one to something of a faunus-specific general store -- but the thrill was no less tangible for the simplicity of the act.

Clothes came first, from a cozy shop tucked into the quiet corner of a quiet street. The shop’s exterior was so inconspicuous she might have missed it entirely had Velvet not pointed out the hand-painted sign above the door. The pair picked quietly through densely arranged racks hung heavy with clothing of all sorts, arranged first by species, then style, then color and size. Nothing the store carried would match the refinement or price tags of her… _human_ wardrobe, of course, but high-end faunus-friendly clothiers were few and very, very far between.

A suitable wardrobe was arranged, or the beginning of one, at least, along with a few pieces for Velvet. Weiss paid with a portion of the cash she’d been steadily siphoning from her SDC accounts, and they headed off to their next stop.

This was good. This was _working_. This felt right, it felt _real_.

And yet…

And yet Weiss’s ears were seldom idle. There were whispers, idle cruelties spilling like tar from the mouths of passerby.

A trio of young men with jostling shoulders, who turned to one another after they passed and wondered aloud what it’d take to make her _wag_.

Weiss’s tail curled a little lower.

An old man with scarred arms and broken teeth, grumbling to his wife that Vale was going to the _dogs_.

Weiss’s ears flicked back and stayed there.

A passing group of young girls, younger than Ruby, hissing just above their breath about how _exotic_ she looked, like they’d ever understand what her heritage meant, what it cost.

Weiss’s shoulders tensed and hunched, her grip on the bags grew white-knuckled.

She scarcely noticed when Velvet steered them into another barely-marked store, found a quiet corner and cupped her cheeks, searching her face with concern.

“Weiss, are you alright? Weiss?”

Weiss shuddered, fought to release the tension seizing her back. “Y-yes, I’m. I’m fine. It’s,” another shudder, a shaky breath, “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“It’s just. It’s normal, right? This is what you- what _we_ have to tolerate. Just to.” A breath in and out, so unsteady Velvet moved her hands to Weiss’s shoulders to steady her. “Just to go to a couple stores. Just to, _dust_ , how do you-” The words caught in her throat, choked out of being.

“It’s okay now, Weiss, alright? You’re safe here.” Velvet waved off a pair of concerned patrons, an elderly faunus couple watching the two with concern, explaining with a half-lie that her friend was visiting from Menagerie and unused to the biting words of humans. “Take it slow, alright? Just focus on breathing.”

As her breathing eased the tension slipped away, piece by piece. Velvet grinned a bit when her ears perked back up, when her tail regained its slight curl. “I… I’m okay. Or, I will be. I think. Is it _always_ like that?”

“Not always, no. I was hoping today would be better but… you can never really predict it. Are you alright? We can head back now, if you’d like.”

“No, I… I’m alright. Alright enough, at least.” She shook her head to dislodge the lingering anxiety. “I don’t think you ever told me what we’re here for?”

Velvet brightened noticeably at the question, even giving one long ear a brief flick. “Glad you asked, I think you’ll like this. We’re here to buy fur-care products.”

Weiss’s brow creased. “Fur-care…? I already have shampoo and conditioner.”

Velvet wagged a finger and waved her over to a lengthy rack of bottles along one wall. “Ah, but fur and hair are two very different things. Hair shampoo is next to useless for fur and so,” she gestured at one rack in particular, “We have products for fur specifically. Take your time picking, I think you’ll really enjoy this.”

And oh, how Weiss enjoyed it. A great many faunus, as Velvet explained, inherit the heightened sense of smell that Blake and Coco shared. As such, a great many faunus were _very particular_ about the scent of their hair and fur-care products. For such a small shop the number of varieties was simply staggering. She picked through them patiently, letting the lingering tension slip away with each wonderful aroma.

In time -- quite a lot of it -- Weiss settled on a sharp spearmint shampoo and a soothing chamomile-scented conditioner. Their journey back to Beacon was blessedly uneventful; the midday crowds had dispersed and the streets were quiet. The pair sat side by side in companionable silence on the flight back, and Velvet bid Weiss farewell at the door of team CFVY’s dorm.

Just a faunus girl, running errands.

* * *

 

Ruby and Yang had yet to return from their… gallivanting when Weiss slipped back into the team’s dorm. The room was quiet and still, the curtains drawn and lights low, and were it not for her uncanny hearing Weiss might have thought she was alone.

Labored breathing, muffled by layers of cloth.

“Blake?”

The heap of blankets on Blake’s bunk tensed, and a soft _oh no_ caught Weiss’s ears.

“Blake, is something wrong? Why are you… did things not go well with Professor Oobleck?”

Slowly, the mound of assorted fabric shifted as Blake dragged herself out of the fetal position to sit mostly upright, propped against the wall. Her face slipped free of the covers and she looked to Weiss with… _something_ in her eyes.

Flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes with blown-out pupils…

Labored breathing, holed up alone in the dorm…

_Oh._

“Oh.”

“Y-yeah. Oh.” Blake screwed her eyes shut for a moment, shivered lightly.

“I-I'm sorry, should I go? I don't want to… make things difficult for you.”

_“No,”_ Blake hissed, a bit too quickly. She caught herself and shivered again. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Heat's a bitch. You don't have to… go. I can control myself.” Her grip on the sheets tightened by degrees.

Heat, as Blake was well aware, was the worst kind of high. No matter how she tried to be aware of how it was affecting her, it found a way to worm its way past her guard. She would be fine, totally unaffected -- or so she would think -- and then she'd catch some errant whisper of suggestion, some unwelcome _why not?_ in the corner of her mind.

_And why not? You’re_ dating her _, Blake. Why not ask?_

Blake opened her mouth as though to speak, then snapped it shut again, dragged a hand down her face.

_Because, Blake, you're not thinking straight. You haven't even talked to her about…_ that. _Let alone during heat. No, you’re not asking._

And suddenly Weiss was _close too close_ , pressing a hand to her forehead and frowning at the warmth. “You’ll overheat under all those blankets, you know. I don't know much about… estrous, so you’ll have to fill me in. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?”

_YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YE_

_“No-_ I mean… maybe? It’s just… only one thing really… _helps_ , with heat.” Blake fidgeted, rubbed her thighs together beneath the blankets. “Only one thing. So… there is _something_ you could do.”

_NONONONONO BLAKE NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING_

“I… no. I’m sorry, Blake, but no. You're not thinking straight; it’d be… wrong.”

_Well, at least_ one _of you has any sense._

“R-right. You're right, Weiss. I shouldn't have asked, it's just…”

“Not thinking straight, I know.” Weiss ran a hand through Blake’s hair with a sympathetic smile. “When you're feeling better we can talk it over, you and me and Yang, and next time it happens maybe we can do something to help. For now, though, the answer is no.”

Blake hummed at the touch, let her eyes drift shut. “Thank you, Weiss.”

“Don't mention it.” She pressed a chaste peck to Blake’s forehead before pulling away. “How about a snack, instead? I don't expect you've left the room since it started.”

Blake have her a tired grin. “That… would be great. See if they have any of that fried rice left?”

“Of course. Wash your face and get out from under all those blankets while I’m gone, alright? You really are going to overheat like that.”

Blake nodded in the affirmative, and Weiss departed for the cafeteria.

Just a faunus girl, running an errand for her girlfriend. Weiss bit her lip around a smile, and for a moment the world felt _right._ She could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while since this one updated, huh?


	10. Silver and Gold

A secretary. He wouldn’t even make the call himself.

“Weiss, no. No, you aren’t going. _Fuck_ him if he thinks he can just -- just--”

It wasn’t even a secretary she recognized. She wondered if he’d hired someone new for just that reason. If anyone were going to, it was him.

“Yang’s right. He can’t just… toy with you like this.”

There was no choice, not really. If she refused to go to him, he’d come to her, in one form or another. An airship and several stern-looking bodyguards might appear and refuse to leave without her, or she might find it suddenly difficult to purchase dust for Myrtenaster until she acquiesced. She imagined he wouldn’t even hesitate to send the police after her. Whatever it took, he always got his way.

“There’s no…” She swallowed thickly. “There’s no choice. If I refuse or don’t respond he’ll just… he’ll find a way to force me to come home anyway. I have to go. I’m sorry.”

The trio fell silent. Weiss fiddled with a corner of the sheets on her bed, suddenly consumed by the thought that it might not _be_ her bed for much longer. Whatever her father’s reasons for calling her home, she didn’t imagine he’d allow her to leave any time soon.

She bit her lip, fighting just to keep her voice above a whisper. “If… if I don’t--”

Yang blanched. “No. Don’t -- don’t even say it. He wouldn’t.”

“I wish I could believe that. You don’t know him, Yang.”

Yang broke her gaze away from Weiss’s, glaring at the floor so fiercely Weiss imagined it might catch fire.

“Alright,” Blake murmured, her focus somewhere in the middle distance. “Then we’re going with you.”

To her credit, Blake didn’t flinch at the simultaneous cries of _“What?!”_ from her girlfriends. Instead, she sighed and eyed the ceiling through the torrent of words that followed.

“Blake are you _joking?!_ You know who her dad is, right? This is _Silbern Schnee_ we’re talking about!”

“No, no, not a chance, _no_. He’s a monster, he hates faunus, you _know_ what he did to me, I’m not letting him near yo-”

“He’s like half the reason for how fucked up faunus rights are! Like, personally! You’re Fang, Blake, he’d probably try to have you arrested or _worse_ the second he saw y-”

“Stop.” By some miracle, they did. “I know what I’m risking. There’s nothing about me he’ll like, and probably the only thing he’ll like about Yang is that she’s human. I still can’t… I can’t send you into that alone, Weiss. Don’t ask me to do that.”

Weiss released a shuddering breath and dropped her head. Snowy locks cascaded down her shoulders, and a thread of contempt pulled tight in her gut at the sight. Contempt for her father, for her family, for all the whims of fate that conspired to keep her from just _existing._ All this pain, all this risk and fear, just to _be_. It seemed like such a simple thing to ask and yet she, like and agonizingly unlike so many other faunus, was made to fight tooth and nail for it.

Because of _him._ And the thought of facing him alone…

“Alright.” Her voice caught, forcing another hard swallow before she could continue. “I… I’m not going to lie, I don’t like it. But… this was never about what I like. If you two would do this with me, do this _for_ me… it would mean the world.”

Blake and Weiss turned nearly in unison to Yang, who had her arms folded in uncharacteristic silence. Feeling the weight of eyes on her, she huffed. “I don’t like it either, but Blake’s right. If you’re going, we’re all going. I’ll talk to Ruby, see what she wants to do for the rest of break.” A sudden grin hooked the corners of her mouth. “Pyrrha’s stuck here too; something about air fare to Mistral costing an arm and a leg this time of year. Maybe I can arrange for her to meet our dad.”

Blake cocked an eyebrow. “We have one nice parent between the three of us, and Ruby’s girlfriend gets to meet him first?”

“Oh, hush.”

* * *

 

Packing was quiet and tense, the void of conversation filled with rustling fabric and worry thick as smog. No one was really certain how long a stay they should pack for; Yang packed for a week, Blake for three days. Weiss would have packed everything she owned, had Yang not steadied her with an arm around her shoulders and a whisper of _“We’ll be back before you know it.”_

They parted with Ruby and Pyrrha at the airship dock, taking two very different aircraft to two very different fathers.

The SDC-brand airship was top-of-the-line, of course, and the interior was so comfortable it was very nearly unnerving. The barely concealed disgust on the faces of the pilot and attendant, though, made it clear the comforts afforded to them were surface-deep and nothing more.

Yang couldn’t sit still, despite Weiss’s quiet insistence that this was a six-hour flight and she couldn’t possibly spend the entire thing fidgeting. She kept shooting venomous glares at any staff that ventured too close to Weiss or Blake, tapping her foot and cracking any joint she could. Weiss could hardly fault her for her unease. They were headed to spirits knew what terrible encounter, but there could be no doubt that it would go poorly for them all.

Blake, on the other hand, was entirely still. Almost. She was staring intently at the her scroll, tapping out messages rapidly and almost without end. It was nearly a half-hour before she set it down, and then only for a few minutes before resuming her assault on the touchscreen.

The hours trudged by, the soft rush of air past the contoured hull of their craft not breaking the silence so much as bringing it into focus. They didn't speak to each other out loud, not with the feeling of oppressive, invisible eyes on them; watching, listening. The crew avoided them whenever possible, spoke stiffly and with rigid formality when interaction couldn't be avoided.

After some length of time -- it was hard to be sure how long, when so little had really _happened_ in the duration -- Weiss felt a soft buzz in her pocket. She fished out her scroll, flicked it open, read the words on the screen.

_you two hangin in there? -- golden_grl_

Some of the tension left Weiss’s brow. Yang could never quite seem to resist the urge to check on them, a habit she'd doubtless picked up while raising her sister.

_as well as can be expected_

_at least the in-flight snacks are good -- fang fr th mmrs_

Weiss bit back a chuckle; Blake could read her like a book, she always knew when Weiss needed a laugh. After moment, she dashed out a quick response.

_Better than I'd be alone. I love you both. -- Weiss_

_love you too -- fang fr th mmrs_

_ears to tail tip, hun -- golden_grl_

It was cold in Atlas. It was very seldom _not_ cold in Atlas, but winter’s chill cut through even the insulated hull of the airship. Weiss had long ago grown accustomed to it, but Yang shivered now and then and Blake periodically burrowed deeper into the coat she'd brought along. The view through the ship’s narrow windows offered little beyond a sheet of slate gray broken by paler flurries of snow, too dense even to tell if they were over land or water. Schnee manor was perched in the northernmost part of the kingdom, such as it was, so they would still have an hour or so to go once they reached the mainland.

An hour or so later, the airship touched down with no warning or fanfare beyond the subtle whisper of hydraulics. An attendant strode through the cabin, paused briefly to size them up with a quick sweeping glance, and retrieved a trio of long, heavy jackets from a compartment at the rear of the craft. Weiss accepted hers without a word -- Blake and Yang following suit -- and pulled it on over her own coat while the others eyed theirs with thinly veiled suspicion.

“You’ll want it,” she explained with a nod at the jackets, “It’s about a hundred meters to the door.” She buttoned down the overcoat with practiced ease, tugged the heavy hood over her ears, pulled a broad strip up from the collar to cover her mouth and nose.

Yang cocked an eyebrow at it all. “That's not very far, Weiss. How cold can it be?”

“Cold enough to give you frostbite by the time you get there without one of these. Atlas is… different from Vale. In a lot of ways.”

Yang relented and bundled up, and was grateful for it. The air was impossibly cold, numbing their limbs even through their many layers. Stepping across the threshold sent a shudder through Weiss, the bitter familiarity of it all cutting deeper even than the Atlesian wind.

Home again.

* * *

They were greeted at the entryway by another servant -- and so quickly did Weiss’s mind slip back into character, they were all just _servants_ here -- who took their overcoats with a stiff bow, greeted them each in turn -- _“Miss Schnee, Miss Xiao-Long, Miss Belladonna”_ \-- and ushered them further into the manor. For Weiss, the butler’s words faded into an indistinct buzz as they walked, something about their belongings she’d doubtless heard a dozen times before. The glacial gaze of a hundred disappointed ancestors tracked her as she walked; busts and portraits of Schnees long gone sneering down at the traitorous whelp in their midst. She was floating again, removed from herself.

She noticed only vaguely when the butler guiding them was replaced by another, equally blank-faced, equally stiff. Blake and Yang’s rooms were across the hall from one another, in the set of guest rooms reserved for Honored Guests her father didn’t feel like honoring _too_ much.

They were also, as it happened, half a mansion away from Weiss’s own room.

“Weiss?” A voice floated to her, as though from across a great distance. “You in there, hun?” She blinked. Lilac eyes, worried. A warm hand caressed her jawline, ran a thumb against her cheek. Yang. She shook herself.

They were in a sitting room, apparently alone save for the ever-present glare of her long-dead family from every painting and photograph. Blake’s gaze kept darting to the doors, brow furrowed, and Yang was searching Weiss’s face, worry lighting her eyes. She shook herself again.

“I’m… I’m alright.” A deep, steadying breath, in and out, centering herself again. “I’m alright. Are you two…”

Yang scoffed, a flash of crimson darting across her eyes. “They’ve been shuffling us around between butlers for like an hour now. I got sick of it and ‘suggested’ they give us some space for a bit, long flight from Vale, blah blah blah. We’re alone, okay? Blake’s making sure of it.”

She certainly seemed to be. Blake’s gaze was fixed on the entrance to the room, and her ears twitched and swiveled constantly; equal measures alertness and irritation. They would never be _truly_ alone while they were here, as Weiss knew all too well. The manor’s surveillance system was state-of-the-art and comprehensive. Still, it was good to be without expressionless eyes on her. In her direly sheltered youth she’d harbored a distaste for the manor’s staff, their stiff bows and blank faces. Now, though, she recognized their tension for what it was. She felt the same fear.

“He won’t meet us today, I don’t think. That’s… how he operates. He obviously knows you two came with me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s not even here; probably at some _very_ important meeting.” Being alone with her lovers, her team, was lending Weiss back a bit of the courage she’d lost during their tour. Should could hardly imagine what she’d have done without them.

Blake’s ear flicked and she made a noise, half growl, half frustrated huff. “He wants to let us work ourselves up so we’re off-balance when we talk to him directly. How _political_ of him.”

“Exactly. The best thing we can do is just… try not to let it get to us. It’s not much of an option, I know, but it’s all we’ve got.”

Yang heaved a sigh and deflated a little, some of the steel leaving her jaw. “Then we hold fast. C’mere.”

Before she could manage more than half a word of protest, Weiss found herself hoisted bodily into Yang’s arms. The room spun -- pausing for a moment as Yang called for Blake to scoot over a bit -- and with a small _oof_ she found herself cradled between her girlfriends, warm and secure in their arms. They were threefold; they would endure.

* * *

Blake checked once more around the room. She’d found and covered several cameras already which meant there were likely several more she hadn’t found. It was the thought that counted, really. If she couldn’t stop them watching and listening, she’d at least let them know she knew. Satisfied with her efforts, she settled on the (admittedly very comfortable) bed and answered the insistent chiming from her scroll.

Yang’s image was hazy, harshened by the storm raging outside. The manor had a local network, but Blake had decided she’d rather keep her device well away and risk the interference. “She’s still not answering her scroll, Blake. I don’t like it.”

“I know. I don’t like it either,” Blake replied, keeping her voice low.

Yang scowled, fiddling anxiously with a lock of hair. “Think she’s alright? I mean, I know that sounds paranoid but…”

“Honestly, Yang, I don’t think we can be too careful here. We are _definitely_ not wanted.” A heavy sigh punctuated the sentence, and Blake dragged her a hand through her hair. “That said, I think she’s probably alright. She’s on the other side of this gaudy eyesore of a building, and if we’re getting interference from across a hallway…”

“... Then we’re probably just not reaching her. _Fucking_ Atlas weather.”

“Exactly. I still don’t like not being able to call her, though. She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“None of us should, but especially not her. Do you… think she’ll be okay? After all this, I mean.”

Blake hummed low in her throat. It was hard to say what “after” would even look like. She still had a few messages to send, assuming the weather would allow it. “I think… mm. I think whatever happens, it’s going to hurt Weiss bad. There’s no way this ends in them hugging it out.”

“Wouldn’t want him to touch her, anyway.”

“Agreed.” He’d given her enough scars. More than enough. “She’s going to hurt; I just hope we can take away some of the sting.”

“Yeah.” Yang looked to the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “Yeah. Hey, Blake?”

“Hm?”

“Can we… not hang up? Don’t think I’d be able to sleep anyway, and… I’d really rather not be alone, y’know? I’m not exactly in my element here.”

A faint smile softened Blake’s features. “I’d like that.”

* * *

Fortunately, Weiss survived Yang’s hug when they met at breakfast. She as well as could be expected, given her night alone, though it was plain to see she hadn’t slept any more than her girlfriends had. When she first stepped into the dining hall -- Blake couldn’t help but scoff at the idea of someone’s _house_ having a _dining hall_ \-- Weiss had been stiff and wary, nervous and ready to bolt. The moment she spotted Blake and Yang, though, her ears and tail -- and the rest of her, for that matter -- had begun to perk up, just in time for a crushing bear-hug.

Breakfast was nice, of course, though the refined menu didn’t quite satisfy either Blake or Yang’s considerably-less-refined palates. Weiss, on the other hand, ate ravenously despite her nerves. The list of things she’d missed about her old home was essentially a list of her favorite foods.

Shortly after they had finished their meal, one of the ornate doors leading into the hall opened with an announcing creak, and a butler stepped into the room.

“Mister Schnee will see you all now.”

The moment of truth. A chill swept over them, and Weiss rose stiffly, speaking in as authoritative a tone as she could manage. “Thank you. We’ll proceed to his study immediately.”

This was a path through the manor Weiss knew by heart; she imagined she could walk it blindfolded. Her legs carried her there almost on autopilot, though she made sure she kept close enough to Blake and Yang for her tail to brush their legs from time to time as they walked, an insistent reminder of their presence at her side.

The door to Silbern Schnee’s private study was a massive thing, all intricate carvings and dark, heavy wood. It had doubtless cost a small fortune. It was another card in his deck, crafted with the explicit goal of ensuring anyone who faced it felt as small and insignificant as the man on the other side considered them to be. Blake muttered something impolite under her breath, and Yang stifled a laugh.

The butler from before was at the door, fixing a thousand-yard-stare on nothing in particular. When the trio drew close, he knocked firmly at the door. No reply reached even Weiss’s keen ears, but the man nodded after a moment and pushed the door open with visible effort.

Weiss allowed herself a long, slow breath before she strode forward. As she crossed the threshold she caught a subtle murmur, inaudible to all but her and Blake.

_“We’re rooting for you, Miss.”_

By the time she turned the butler had returned to his middle-distance stare, but for a moment she caught a glimpse of a tuft of fur carefully pinned down in his hair. Never alone, not ever.

Bolstered, she strode through the door with Blake and Yang on either side of her. For now, they were all on a script. How quickly it would be shredded was up to her father; after that all bets were off.

“Father.”

The man himself was seated at a desk every bit as imposing as the doors had been. Each of them had seen him before, to varying degrees; the head of the Schnee Dust Company and owner of a tremendous number of subsidiaries was often a public face. In person, he was somehow simultaneously more and less than he appeared on broadcasts or magazine covers. He was roughly Yang’s height, though he was often made to appear taller, but there was an edge of steel in his gaze that the cameras could never hope to bind. Eye contact felt like staring down the point of a sword.

“Weiss. It’s been some time since you last visited.” His tone was level, betraying no hint of emotion. “And I see your… friends have decided to accompany you.”

Blake mused that Silbern had now managed two sentences without actually saying anything at all.

He set aside a small stack of papers and rose slowly from his desk, sweeping an appraising glare across each of them in turn, lingering longest on Weiss. “I’d heard rumors of your… misadventures at Beacon. I suppose I’d hoped they were nothing more than hearsay.”

Yang’s fists clenched with a series of pops. “Then you…”

Somehow, Weiss had held out hope. It made no sense, of course, but until she heard it from his mouth she could hold out hope that somehow, he wasn’t quite the monster he’d proven himself to be.

“Knew of her… unfortunate heritage? How could I _not?_ ” That was it, then. The lines were drawn, the script was burned. “Of course I knew. Contrary to what I’m _sure_ you believe, I am no fool. When she was born, I was… disappointed.” He crossed the room at a measured pace, stopping inches from Weiss, meeting her eyes.

Blake rested a hand on Yang’s shoulder, gripping it firmly. The skin was unnaturally warm. “Easy, Yang,” she murmured. The last thing they needed was a clash with security.

“Naturally, I had your… _malformities_ removed immediately. You were raised as human as I could make you; I scrubbed away everything that might lead to… _this_. Do you understand me, Weiss?” He spat her name with distaste.

Weiss was trembling, but she held her ground, held his gaze.

“You were a _project_. You were supposed to prove that on a short enough leash, a mongrel could be made to play the part of a man. So much for that.”

She could feel her breath drawing shorter. She was faltering in the face of the storm, try as she might to endure. Behind her, Blake was fighting to hold Yang back. She didn’t need to see her eyes to know they’d be blazing crimson.

“After the mess with your sister and mother, I should have known better.”

Wait, _what?_

“Enough of this. You’ll be escorted back to your rooms for the day while I decide what to do about… _this_.”

That was last straw for Yang. She struggled fiercely against Blake’s grip on her arms, teeth bared and grinding. “Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?! You don’t talk to her like that, _no one_ talks to her like--”

“Yang.” Weiss turned to face her, bitter tears welling in her eyes. “Don’t. Please, just…” Her voice fell to a near-whisper. “Please.”


	11. Silver and Gold, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this a continuation of the previous chapter, it just got long and I decided to break it up.

Blake, Yang, and Weiss were returned to their rooms, separated and flanked by security. Weiss shot them both a look of raw grief when parted, and Yang felt the fire in her gut grow a bit hotter. She wanted nothing more than to show these guards who _exactly_ they were fucking with, leave some bruises, break some bones, burn this whole fucking place to ash.

But Weiss asked had asked her not to.

When Blake and Yang reached their rooms, Blake paused halfway through the doorway. She chewed her lip for a moment, something thoughtful but -- in Yang’s opinion -- altogether too calm on her face.

“Yang?”

“What, Blake,” she growled.

“Patience.”

With that, she stepped through the door, allowing the guard who had been “escorting” her to shut and lock it.

_Patience?!_

Yang’s door closed with a subtle _tic_ of the lock setting, and she promptly discarded every shred of patience. She stormed across the room, jaw set and eyes flashing red, and dug through her baggage looking for --

They weren’t there. While her back was turned, someone had taken her gauntlets.

She should have known. For _fuck’s_ sake she should have _known_ they’d pull something like this. Snarling, her semblance searing footprints into the carpet, she strode back to the door and struck it a furious blow hard enough to sear and splinter wood -- and leave a modest dent in the reinforced steel beneath. Of course. The walls would doubtless be just as sturdy, and the window wasn’t an option -- that blizzard had yet to let up, she’d be long dead before she found a way back in and _oh spirits there’s someone at the window_

 _Someone_ was very much at the window. _Who_ was at the window was altogether impossible to determine thanks to the cocoon of gear which was doubtless keeping them alive out there; Yang could just make out the glow of red dust between layers. This could be a Schnee-brand assassin, the end result of Silbern’s deliberations. For a moment she tensed, reflexively flicking her wrists in that particular way that _should_ have brought two decidedly lethal gauntlets to bear.

And then a heavily gloved hand made a valiant attempt at indicating the latch on Yang’s side of the window. Yang cocked an eyebrow, still wary, and the stranger began to scratch out letters -- backwards -- in the frost on the window.

_P… L… E… A… S… E_

_C… O… L… D_

Yang would be the first to admit she hadn’t read the book on methods used by assassins-for-hire, but she was fairly certain asking nicely wasn’t in there. After a moment’s deliberation, she moved to the window and flicked open the latch. Her visitor wasted no time in wrenching the window open and tumbling into the room in a heap, and Yang wasted no time making sure the window was shut and latched behind them. It was _fucking_ cold out there.

“Mf fhmf mm hmf hmmhm--”

“Can’t understand a word of what you’re saying, buddy.”

Yang’s mystery guest rose to their feet a bit unsteadily and began to undo layer after layer of thick fabric. They were tall; standing upright they were easily a head above Yang and broader to boot -- though some of that was likely the layers of clothing they continued to shed. Two hats, three hoods, a pair of earmuffs and a strip of dust-infused cloth later, a pair of tall tawny ears sprang up from where they had been held down, and their owner gave an appreciative groan. They yanked off their gloves and unwound a dense mass of scarves that had been shielding their mouth.

“Said I thought I was gonna freeze out there. Damned Atlas weather.”

As it turned out, the visitor was only marginally more understandable with their mouth uncovered. Their accent was much like Velvet’s, but thicker by leaps and bounds. Menagerian, then, and if the ears were anything to go by…

“You wouldn’t happen to know someone named Velvet, would you?” Yang asked.

The stranger flashed a grin as they continued to shed clothes. “Ah, should’ve figured you’d know her; she goes on about Blake often enough, it’s no wonder she knows you too. Pleased to meet you, Yang. Name’s Talia Scarlatina, I’m Velvet’s big sis.”

Now that she was finally free of her clothes-cocoon, Yang took the chance to size Talia up. The clothes, apparently, hadn’t been exaggerating so much as accenting her size. She was tall, broad, and powerfully built; corded muscle stood out under her sleeves as she stretched and shook the chill from her limbs. Lines of ink were just visible at her collar and wrists, intricate weaving patterns concealed by her shirt.

A thought that had been patiently waiting its turn finally struck Yang. “Wait, Talia, why in the _hell_ are you here?”

This time it was Talia’s turn to cock an eyebrow. “Got lost lookin’ for a hotel, what d’you think? I’m gettin’ you and your girls the fuck out of dodge, that’s why.” She fished around in the heap of coats for a moment before withdrawing a worn duffel bag that had been somewhere between layers. “Which reminds me,” she continued as she zipped it open, “Figure you’ll want these back. You’ll make better use of them than security will, I reckon.”

She produced a pair of golden gauntlets from the bag, and Yang wondered if she’d ever seen anything so beautiful.

“I could kiss you right now,” Yang mumbled as she slipped them on, “Y’know, if I weren’t taken.”

Talia withdrew a ring of keys from the bag before zipping it shut and shouldering it. “Ah, my wife wouldn’t have any of it. Besides, you’re like twelve.”

“Wh- I’m twenty!”

“Yeah, so like, twelve. C’mon, only a matter of time ‘fore somebody notices half of security’s tied up in the janitor’s closet.”

It took a few minutes of fiddling -- neither of them could figure out the labels on the keys -- but soon Yang was free of her overpriced prison cell. A bit of swearing, a game of rock-paper-scissors and a lucky guess later, they’d managed to free Blake as well.

Blake was reclining on the bed when they slipped through the door. She acknowledged them with a flick of her ears and stood smoothly.

Yang squinted at her. “Alright, you don’t seem _nearly_ as surprised about this as I was. You two know each other?”

Talia withdrew Gambol Shroud from her bag and passed it to Blake. “In the White Fang you meet everyone, sooner or later.”

Blake reclaimed her weapon and returned it to its place on her back. “Talia’s been working with the Atlas branch of the Fang recently, so I set up a plan B with her while we were on our way here.” She flicked an ear and gave Talia a rueful grin. “Speaking of, I said third floor on the _west_ side. I bet you nearly gave Yang a heart attack.”

Talia flipped open her scroll, sifting through messages. “Okay, no, you _definitely_ said -- oh, how about that. Whoops.”

* * *

Half a mansion away, Weiss was waiting. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for, really. A servant, coming to inform her that Blake and Yang had suddenly disappeared? A message on her scroll telling her she could never return to Beacon, never see her friends again? She felt as if every scrap of warmth had been leeched from her body, leaving her frozen and numb.

She hadn’t bothered to look for Myrtenaster. She wondered if it was in the security office, in the same locker where Gambol Shroud and Ember Celica had doubtless been stored, or if her father had taken it himself as a trophy of sorts.

Most likely the latter. He’d do everything he could to cut her off from them, leave her vulnerable and alone. At this point, she could only hope that he’d want nothing more than to forget about Blake and Yang, that they’d be spared whatever fate awaited her.

Footsteps in the hallway outside, doubtless coming to deliver her sentence. Weiss’s throat tightened, tears yet unshed in her eyes. Her ears flicked on reflex in the direction of the sound.

Faintly, muffled by the heavy door, she heard something entirely unexpected.

The footsteps paused a moment.

A voice she didn’t recognize got as far as “You’re not supposed to be--” before it was cut off with a single, sudden thump.

The footsteps continued, drawing up to her door.

There was a jingle of keys, a string of curses in a voice she didn’t recognize, a different one this time, and finally the lock clicked open.

“Weiss!”

Before she could quite process what was happening, Weiss found herself wrapped tightly in familiar arms. Yang pulled away after a brief squeeze, holding her shoulders at arm’s length and searching her worriedly. “Are you okay? Spirits, if they so much as _touched_ you I’ll-”

She trailed off when Weiss closed the space between them, embracing her again, burying her face in Yang’s shoulder. Yang brought a hand to her back, rubbing circles there.

“You’re okay, hun. We’re here now, you’re safe,” Yang murmured into her ear, gentle words easing Weiss’s tremors.

After a moment, Talia piped up. “We _are_ here, but we’d best change that in a hurry. Hard to say how long we have before somebody finds us or our ride.”

Yang pulled away slowly, and Blake stepped forward from where she’d been keeping watch on the hallway. “Weiss, I know this is sudden, but we’re getting out of here. This is Talia, she’s Velvet’s sister and a good friend.”

“Aw, shucks.”

“Hush, you.”

Weiss was reeling. This was too perfect, too _easy._ The thought that she could just walk away from him -- it seemed too good to be true. “I… I don’t know,” she stammered, “It’s just… my father, he -- he won’t just let us go. It can’t be that easy.”

Talia stepped close to her, took a knee. “You’re right, sweetheart. It’s not that easy.” She unzipped her bag, rummaging around a bit to withdraw…

A pistol. An ordinary, dust-round revolver.

She offered it to Weiss, a glimmer of regret in her eyes. “He’s not letting us go, we’re making a run for it. That means… things get left behind.” She took Weiss’s hand, softly pressing the weapon into it. “Things, but not people. Never people. Now, we’ve got a flight to catch, and there's someone in Menagerie who’d very much like to see you again.”

Weiss’s brow furrowed, and Talia grinned. “Well, not just _one_ someone.”

* * *

“Our ride” turned out to be a small all-weather vehicle parked below Yang’s window. Transports like it were common throughout Atlas, particularly in the northern reaches. They offered little in the way of comfort besides a thoroughly insulated interior and a powerful heating system, but the compact dust-fueled engine could bear the harshest cold and clear near any blizzard. Talia had referred to it as “the ol’ fucker,” which Weiss assumed was meant to be affectionate.

The drive was long and not especially comfortable, battered as they were by wind and rough terrain. Hours of staring down sleet in the headlights and checking constantly behind for a glow of pursuers later, they arrived at a small town. To call it a town was, perhaps, too generous; it was little more than a handful of short, blocky buildings scattered around a single airship landing pad that looked several sizes below regulation. An airship perched there, creaking gently with the wind.

Talia preempted Weiss’s question. “Gotta get into Atlas somehow. There’s not a single port or airship landing on the continent that’ll accept passengers from Menagerie -- and spirits help you if you’re Fang -- so we have a couple of landing encampments like this around the continent. They’re cheap to set up and easy to relocate, so if the cops catch on we can disappear and pop up somewhere else.”

They made a number of stops around the encampment before departing, picking up food for the journey, lighter clothes for when they moved further south, and a few personal items of Talia’s; souvenirs for her family, toiletries, a spare set of clothes.

The airship was only marginally more comfortable than the ol’ fucker had been, but before long they cleared the storm and the ride smoothed out and the howling winds died down. The ship’s engines droned on endlessly, a blanket of steady noise that drew the trio to a hard-earned slumber.

* * *

 

Menagerie, as it happened, was perhaps as unlike Atlas as it was possible to be. When Weiss woke to Blake’s gentle nudging, the air was turning hot and dry, and harsh morning light filtered through the craft’s tinted portholes. She groaned at the warmth, tugging off her layers of winter wear as quickly as she could. Her girlfriends had already changed, Yang into her usual combat ensemble -- with a yellow tank usually consigned to pajama duty in place of her vest -- and Blake into a white V-neck emblazoned with the White Fang symbol and a pair of her customary double-zippered shorts.

Talia called back from the cockpit -- they’d be touching down near the coastline shortly.

Once she was free of her heavier layers, Weiss fished through their hastily-packed baggage for something better suited to the still-warming weather. She had her combat gear, of course, but… for now, she supposed, she’d rather just be _Weiss._ A plain tank-top and shorts would suffice. All the same, she felt off-balance; the revolver at her hip was too short, too light. From the landing they took a rugged-looking car -- this one endearingly termed “the ancient bucket” -- and headed inland.

After a few minutes on the road, Yang’s brow furrowed. Talia caught her eyes in the rear-view mirror. “What’s eatin’ you, Yang?”

“I just realized, we’ve been traveling for like eight hours now and I have no idea where we’re going.”

“Been more like ten hours, really,” she remarked around a tired grin, “You all dozed through the boring parts. And as for where we’re headed, we’ll shortly be arriving at the lovely abode of the Scarlatina family.”

Yang blinked. “What, you mean the _whole_ Scarlatina family?”

At that, Talia cocked an eyebrow. “Well, yeah, of cou- ah, don’t know much about Menagerie, do you? It’s pretty common out here for families to keep under one roof. Not that it’s, like, sacrilege or whatever to move out, it’s just not assumed that we will.”

“So…”

“So pretty much the whole Scarlatina family, yeah. There’s Gran, Mama, Mom, Pa and Cotton, they’re the--” Her hands left the steering wheel just long enough for a quick set of air-quotes “-- _Adults_. Then there’s me ‘n’ the wife, Velv when she’s around, Satin, Terry, Paisley--”

“And just _how_ big is your house, exactly?”

“See for yourself; here we are.” They cleared a copse of trees as she spoke, bringing into view a house roughly the size of Taiyang’s. “‘Course, this is only the first floor. There’s a lot more house below ground.”

Talia eased the ancient bucket into the driveway and the four climbed out, stretching stiff limbs with a chorus of groans and more than a few satisfying pops. Blake rubbed at her neck, working the knotted muscle with a grimace. “I think I’d be alright with never traveling again.”

There was a familiarly soft chuckle from the front door. Velvet stood leaning against the frame, watching them stretch. “Well as far as I’m concerned you’re all welcome here as long as you’d like.” She crossed the yard to wrap Weiss in a tight embrace. “I won’t ask how it went; you wouldn’t be here right now if it had gone well. I’m just glad Talia got you all out safe. Come on in, everyone’s been expecting you.”

As they found out, she wasn’t joking. _Everyone_ was waiting for them, at least three generations of Scarlatina crowded into the spacious living room just past the door. Weiss stopped counting the hugs after fifteen, though she was pretty sure a few of them were double-dipping.

Out of the corner of her eye, Weiss noticed one of the – in Talia’s words – “Adults” gently pull Blake aside. Her ears swiveled in their direction just in time to catch a low, worried exchange.

“Blake, right? Belladonna?”

Blake nodded, brow creased with uncertainty.

“Cotton Scarlatina. Do you…”they chewed their lip for a moment. “When was the last time you heard from Colby Belladonna?”

When Weiss turned to look, fear was shining in Blake’s eyes.


	12. Answers

The first thing Blake noticed, as the door shut behind her with a subtle _click_ , was how the sound of a dozen rolling conversations outside dropped off to a whisper. It was eerie; it made her ears twitch.

Cotton Scarlatina turned from the door and cast Blake a bemused look. “Not used to the soundproofing, mm?” Their voice held the same accented tone that Blake had come to expect from Menagerians -- or Scarlatinas, at the very least -- but with it a musical quality, a lurking melody below the words. “I guess Vale doesn’t give much thought to it; humans do love to imagine themselves alone in the world.”

Blake could only nod in weary agreement with that. She took stock of the room as Cotton crossed it; a small study, more cozy than cramped but lined on every wall with bookshelves, and every shelf brimming with dense tomes. A window on the room’s exterior wall -- surrounded on all sides by more shelves, with more books -- allowed a ray of sunlight in to warm the room. Cotton sat easily in a well-loved chair at an equally well-loved desk, and swiveled to face Blake.

At a glance, Cotton themself looked much like Velvet -- the same luster to their hair and fur, the same deep, rich brown eyes. Even their face had a similar shape to Velvet’s, a softness about the eyes and the suggestion of a pout resting on the lips. Beyond there, the similarities ended. Cotton’s figure was tall and willowy -- Blake mused to herself that they looked like a personification of cursive -- and they dressed far more colorfully than Velvet’s usual attire.

“I’m truly sorry to jump you with this before you’ve even had a chance to sit down but -- ah, where are my manners”-- they gestured briefly to another chair --”please, have a seat. Now… I don’t want to keep you for long, but if you know anything about what’s happened to Colby, whether he’s alright, or…” They looked away, gaze resting on a shelf packed with obsidian-black volumes. “Or otherwise, I suppose.”

Blake bit her lip for a long, tense moment. “I’d… like it if you didn’t use that name, at least not around me.” At Cotton’s searching look, she continued, hesitantly. “I’m… I’m transgender. No one’s called me Colby in a very long time.”

A silence fell, absolute but for the constant whisper of conversation bleeding through the study’s door. For a moment Blake imagined she’d just made a terrible mistake, that confiding in Cotton would come back to bite her hard, but before her line of thought could get much further, Cotton chuckled. “Well, that wasn’t especially tactful of me, mm?” Blake quirked a smile to match theirs, shrugged lightly. “At any rate, consider the name forgotten. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you’re alright, Blake. But enough of me holding you up, let’s get the three of you settled in, mm? From what I understand, you could all use a comfortable bed and a hot meal.”

They rejoined the friendly chaos of the living room just in time to watch Yang go down under a pile of children. Weiss was seated on a couch between Velvet and a stocky older woman who Blake assumed to be either “Mom” or “Mama,” sharing a quiet conversation and shaking her head with a smile at her more boisterous girlfriend’s antics. Her ears twitched in Blake’s direction, and she gave her a worried look. Blake returned a thumbs-up, silently mouthing _later_.

The older woman followed Weiss’s gaze, spotting Blake with a warm smile. She rose from the couch, tugging Weiss along with her and Yang out from under the giggling heap, and ushered the three of them toward a flight of stairs set in the center of the house. “Yang, dear, do watch your step; not many lights in the hallways, and Terry tends to leave things about.” She led them down, taking Yang’s hand as they descended. True to her word, the hallways branching off of each landing they passed were dimly lit at best; what light there was filtered in from adjoining rooms. “No sense in leaving lights all ‘round the place when most everyone here can see just fine without ‘em.”

Four floors below the surface (though Weiss and Blake could see the stairs continue down for at least another flight), they headed down a scarcely-lit hall, past several doors, until they stopped before one at the end of the hall. Mrs. Scarlatina -- as Blake had settled on calling her until someone suggested otherwise -- opened it and waved them in. “On the -- heh -- _bright_ side, the guest rooms ‘ve all got lights.” She flicked a switch by the door, briefly blinding everyone.

The room was spacious, a trait that Blake was beginning to expect from this home. It was dominated, in large part, by a single bed which could have easily held two of each of them. There were a handful of other amenities; a dresser, a desk in the back corner, a small closet.

“Now, I imagine you’ll want some time to settle in, but there’s plenty of fixin’s for lunch up in the kitchen, when you’re ready for it.” She paused for a moment, drumming her fingers on the doorframe. “Takes a bit for guests to get the hang of the place, most often, so I’ll give you the highlights. Bathroom’s right next door to here”-- she jerked a thumb to the closest door down the hall --“There’s plenty o’ them around, though, so if you need one in a hurry just try a few doors or ask Vesna -- ah, when she gets back from Vacuo, I s’pose. Always had a tender stomach, that one. Anyhow, kitchen and dining room ‘re on the second floor”-- she blinked, pointed upwards --”meaning the one below ground level. We’re on the fifth floor, here. Other than that, just go ahead ‘n’ ask, nobody here’ll mind showing you around.”

A distant clanging sounded from somewhere upstairs, and Mrs. Scarlatina rolled her eyes with a rueful smile. “Duty calls. I oughta keep you around, Yang; I think that was the longest they’ve ever gone without getting up to some mischief.”

* * *

When she left, the room seemed somehow empty despite the three of them sharing it. There was an energy to Mrs. Scarlatina that seemed to take up more space than she herself could ever hope to. Weiss was the first to break the silence. “She was nice.”

Yang couldn’t quite suppress a giggle at that. “That’s a word for it. She’s like eight moms, combined into one unstoppable hyper-mom.” Yang nodded to Blake before sprawling onto the bed. “That was ‘Mama’ Scarlatina, in case you were wondering. We did like a thousand introductions, but I think you were off with Cotton talking about… whatever it was you were talking about?”

Weiss fixed Blake with a worried look, taking a seat on the edge of the bed with her tail folded across her lap. “I… would like to know what that was about, Blake. I couldn’t help but overhear”-- she flicked an ear --“Cotton mention another Belladonna? I know you never met your parents, but… was that someone you know?”

A quiet moment passed as Blake considered her words. “I suppose I should have brought this up a while ago, but it just never… seemed like the right time.” A tired grin crossed her face. “There’s been kind of a lot going on since we met.” She allowed herself a slow breath, smoothing away the lingering anxiety that clung to talks like this. “I’m trans. Weiss, that… name you overheard is my deadname.”

If there were anything Blake hadn’t been expecting, it was for Yang’s face to light up the way it did. “Oh, awesome! Ah, I mean, not like -- what I mean is you and Rubes will have something to talk about! She’s been looking for other trans kids at Beacon for a while, just too shy to get anywhere with it.”

Weiss, by contrast, turned serious. “I’m sure I’ll manage to put my foot in my mouth somehow, here, but I want you to know this doesn’t… change how I think of you. I know I was… not the _least_ bigoted person at Beacon for a long time, but I’ve moved past that, I promise you.”

“Never doubted you for a second, Weiss.” Blake grinned, leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. “Not to bring things down too much, but… speaking of moving past things, where do you go from here?”

Yang _hmm_ ed in agreement, rolling onto her side to face Weiss. “Yeah, we’ve… kinda drawn some lines in the sand with your pops. What you do next is… kinda up to you, y’know? Pretty much the only thing you _can’t_ do is go back to Schneesburg, and I don’t imagine you actually _want_ to go back there, like, ever.”

Weiss murmured a contemplative sound, threading her fingers through the fur of her tail. “My… father mentioned something about a ‘mess’ with my mother and Winter. I want to know what he meant by that, even if… it’s not likely to be good news. I haven’t seen Winter in ages, and my mother…” She trailed off, the silence understood.

“Well…” Blake mused, her thoughts a thousand miles away, likely sifting through drawers of files, books of records in a White Fang office somewhere, “I can do some digging; with Talia’s help I might even be able to get started before we head back to Vale. We don’t have much to go on with your mom, but… maybe if we can find Winter, she’ll have a lead for us? Hell, she might even know where to find her.”

Weiss nodded absently, daydreaming of a mother she’d never met, someone warm and loving and with a presence that could fill any room and make it a _home_.

* * *

They opted to pass the day in relative solitude, holed up in their room and enjoying the quiet. Blake was learning to enjoy the soundproofing, acclimating well to a kind of quiet she’d very seldom experienced before. When stomachs started protesting, Yang ventured upstairs to the kitchen and returned with a plate full of distressingly thick ham sandwiches and Paisley Scarlatina clinging to her leg. Weiss had helped secure the leg’s release, thanks to the valiant sacrifice of half a candy bar she’d found in Blake’s bag. All three settled into bed early that evening, weary from stress, travel, and jet lag. They slept close together, nestled under heavy blankets and in each other’s arms.

Blake was the first to wake -- technically, though only for long enough to take one look at the time and roll over -- but thanks to their journey across no small number of time zones all three were up and wide awake before long. Once they were dressed, and once Yang had managed to tame her hair, they followed the sound and smell of breakfast in progress upstairs.

Breakfast was, as it turned out, very much a work in progress. The kitchen was filled to capacity, with Pa and Mom orchestrating the efforts of at least half a dozen of the younger residents. Eggs flipped, flatbread baked, meat sizzled, and an array of thick sauces none of the trio could name simmered and stewed under the careful attentions of the family.

From the eye of the breakfast-tornado, Mom Scarlatina called out. “Morning, you three!” She had a voice like Velvet’s, calm and smooth but still firm enough to carry over the crowd. “If you feel like cooking, go ahead and squeeze in where you can, otherwise there's plenty of room at the table.”

Blake and Yang shared a glance and a grin, then dove in as best they could to help. Weiss opted to steer clear of the dense press of bodies, and instead found a seat at the dining room’s single oversized table beside Gran, whose ears didn't stand quite so tall as those of her children and grandchildren, but whose voice held an unshakable wisdom and strength. They chatted as an army's worth of breakfast came together, about life as it is and as it was long ago, about faunus and kingdoms and the huntresses who safeguarded them all. At times she’d skip between languages like a stone over still water, phrases flickering by in a tongue Weiss couldn’t name, let alone understand. Often she’d cap her sentences with a quick _mm_ ; Weiss marked it down mentally as a quirk of the language.

Breakfast came in like the tide. Wave after steady wave of dishes came in from the kitchen, until the table was so full Weiss wondered how there could possibly be room for everyone’s plates. Once the kitchen had been emptied and the table filled, the morning’s crew of chefs joined them, spattered to varying degrees with sauces and grease -- with the exception of Blake, who by some miracle had managed to remain spotless. When Weiss gave her a look she simply returned a grin and said “semblance.”

Plates began to circle the table, and at Yang’s urging the three decided to try at least a bite of any dish they didn’t recognize, which was most of them. Blake, growing up with the White Fang, had eaten Menagerian food on rare occasions, but could only name a fraction of what was before them; many of the ingredients were expensive or difficult to come by in the human kingdoms. Yang and Weiss were entirely clueless, though Yang was kind enough to nudge Weiss and mention that _something_ Pa had mixed into the more alarmingly-colored dishes had made her eyes water _before_ they were cooked. Weiss resolved to keep a glass of milk on hand.

She was right to do so, as it turned out. Even the most innocuous portions carried a bite, and many of the others were fiery enough that Weiss quit after her first mouthful. The Atlesian cuisine she’d been raised on, generally speaking, involved a lot less spice and a lot more boiled vegetables. Yang was clearly suffering, but carried on eating valiantly. Blake, on the other hand, looked positively rapturous. She was also flushed and sniffling quietly, but she took every bite with more gusto than the last.

After about an hour and several glasses of milk on Weiss’s part -- and possibly Yang’s as well, every time Weiss raised her glass it seemed lighter than it had when she set it down -- the plates were mostly cleared. Mom clapped once, sharply, and the steady clamor of the table ceased in an instant. “Now, house rules are if you didn’t cook you help clean up, and since these two dears”-- she nodded at Yang and Blake --“did the cooking, that means you’re on dish duty, Weiss. You know what they say about many hands, mm?”

The time spent washing up did fly by, though not quite for the reason Mom intended. Dish after dish passed through Weiss’s hands, the time melting into a steady rhythm of take, scrub, rinse, pass on to whoever was nearest and holding a dishrag. There was an energy in the room, a warm, close sort of togetherness that Weiss had seldom felt before. Conversation came idle and easy, even to Weiss, much to her own surprise. Terry told her animatedly about a weird lizard they’d found under a rock behind the house, waving a half-dried plate around to indicate how big it’d been until Cotton snatched it out of their hand. Mama -- or _Yan_ , as most seemed to call her -- asked her about her studies at Beacon, her fur-care routine, how she’d come to know Velvet. Weiss smiled and laughed and chatted, basking in a familial sort of love she’d never felt before, that she thought she’d never, ever get enough of.

* * *

“Blake, did I ever tell you what it is I do, mm?”

Blake passed a sweeping look over the rows upon rows of bookshelves lining the walls of Cotton’s study, over the stack of notes conspiring to bury their laptop. “Something involving a lot of reading, if I had to guess.”

They shot her a grin as they rescued their laptop from its papery grave, flipping it open smoothly. “You could say that. Lot of writing, too. These”-- They gestured widely at the shelves --“are what I do. Most of the books in here are ones I’ve either written or revised; the rest are reference. I suppose you’d call my work… archival, maybe. Our family is ancient, and we’ve been very good about writing things down. On the floor below your room, we have texts that are so old they don’t even _mention_ Menagerie, or any of the human kingdoms. Incidentally,” they added, opening an elaborate timeline with a swift series of clicks, “they _do_ mention the name Belladonna.”

Blake sat up a little straighter at that. “They… they do? My family?” The thought sent a pang through her; she’d never allowed herself to hope she might learn anything about them.

Cotton flicked a long ear. “Thought you’d like that. The Belladonnas have always been… a bit less predisposed to record-keeping -- more the ‘lead a rebellion first, write about it later’ sort of people, historically -- but that doesn’t mean no one was paying attention. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, incidentally. After… what happened to your parents--”

“W-wait, my parents? Did -- did you know them? All… all i know about them is what I picked up from people in the local Fang who knew them, and that… wasn’t much.” She eyed her hands, knuckles turning pale in her lap. “Must have heard a hundred stories about the last time someone saw them.”

“As it happens…” They plucked a book from a shelf above the desk, turning it in their hands before passing it across to Blake.. “It’s not much, but I thought you might like to have this. It’s not finished yet,” they said around a grin, “I recently found out I have one of the names wrong. If you want to look through it, though, you're welcome to.”

The volume was dense and slender, bound in sleek black leather and embossed with  BELLADONNA, LXXIII. Blake held it delicately, as though it might vanish if she dared open it.

“Volume 73, and the others are much thicker. Like I said, yours is an old name.”

“Then this is…”

“Your history, Blake. About a hundred years of it. Every birth, death, marriage… every major event in the Belladonna family, and a family tree I’ll admit I’m rather proud of. I’ll get a revised copy printed up with the ah”-- they chuckled, glanced away for a moment --“necessary revisions before you all head back to Vale. In the meantime, consider it yours.”

A tightness gripped Blake's throat, and she found speaking suddenly difficult. For so long, she had considered herself an island; alone in life, a girl from nowhere. She had been wrong, and the proof rested in her hands with the number 73 on its cover.

A girl from somewhere, cradling a hundred years of answers, all bound up in black leather.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Weiss fell face first into bed, and didn't move. Several minutes later Yang did the same, lying across Weiss's back. _Then_ Weiss moved, writhing and pleading with Yang to _move you oaf you're going to crush me_.

Yang relented with a mischievous giggle, rolling aside to an open stretch of bed. “Y’know,” she said, grinning tiredly, “I’m a huntress in training, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”

Weiss mumbled a vague agreement, her face still pressed into the sheets.

“ _Yan_ wasn’t kidding about keeping me around. I don’t think I ever went more than five minutes without at least one of the kids glued to me.”

With an effort, Weiss managed to roll over enough to respond. “I think I learned… everything there is to know about household chores.”

 _“Totally_ exhausted.”

“Mm.”

A silence stretched between them.

“It’s... been a while. Since the last time I was this happy.”

“I don’t think I ever have been. This feels… like a family. Like a home, a _real_ home.”

Yang gave a melancholy smile. “It feels like our home -- me ‘n’ Ruby’s, I mean. Or at least… how it used to be. When it was me, and Ruby, and my dad, and -- and Summer. When it was all of us, it felt… warm. Real, like this feels. I guess I never realized how much I missed that.”

“I can’t _imagine_ having this, only to lose it. I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt. The manor was never a home, not really. Nothing like this. And…” Her eyes darted down, lips pressed into a line. “If this is what a family should be like… then I suppose my father was never really family. I feel like I’ve been starving all my life, and only noticed the hunger when they offered me a meal.”

Yang’s smile turned warm and bright, and she gathered Weiss up in her arms. “Well, if you want to move to Menagerie you’ll have to ask Blake, too.”

* * *

Blake, meanwhile, was stargazing. Velvet sat beside her, on a bench behind the house, in companionable silence. The book lay closed in her lap, and every so often she ran her fingers across the embossed cover.

Velvet was the first to break the silence. “I always miss the stars, when I leave here. The sky seems almost alive at night.”

Blake _hmm_ ed in assent, then glanced down at the book. “I… mm. I was wondering if you could tell me about some of what’s in here, if that’s alright? There were a few words I didn’t recognize.”

Velvet quirked a smile. “On the family tree, mm?”

A crease crept into Blake’s brow, and she gave Velvet a look. “I’m assuming that wasn’t a lucky guess?”

She shook her head, took the book gently and flipped to the page in question. “Everyone on the family tree has the same information: a name, a photo or sketch, their date of birth, date of death -- if they aren’t still alive, that is -- and… their gender. If I had to guess…”

Blake huffed half a laugh and nodded slowly. “Got it in one. I guess there’s a lot about faunus culture I just… missed, living in Vale.”

Velvet hummed thoughtfully, glancing back up to the stars. “Well… I wouldn’t say it’s _just_ faunus culture, though a lot of it certainly is. The idea that there are only two genders is -- relatively speaking -- a recent creation, and a human one at that. Faunus societies have always been less interested in controlling and quantifying people. After the human kingdoms took control, they”-- she chuckled, shook her head --“Cotton could explain this better, but… they started to define ‘human’ as ‘not faunus,’ if that makes sense. They considered themselves superior to faunus, and they decided that anything we were, they should be opposed to. As a part of that, they decided -- and I should mention that when I say ‘decided’ I don’t necessarily mean that all of human society put it to a vote or anything, but more… that there was a cultural shift in that direction, directed or otherwise, and it stuck.”

Blake nodded, made a mental note to get Cotton’s number before they returned to Vale.

“Anyway, they decided that our whole”-- she made a quick set of air quotes --“ _‘gender identity thing’_ was messy and useless, and that _actually_ there were only two genders, and that they were defined at birth, by your anatomy. In Menagerie, we… don’t do that. Here, kids decide their own gender, if and when they feel they’re ready. As for the ones you didn’t recognize… well, there are more than a few. Some are specific to faunus culture or certain subcultures, some are more general -- you’re going to hear this a lot if you stick around, but Cotton’s got a book about it.”

When Velvet turned to look, Blake’s expression was deeply thoughtful. She chewed her lip, eyes on the family tree, searching for some answer just out of sight. “That’s… interesting.”

Velvet smiled, passed the book back to her. “Incidentally, I’m not actually a girl.” At Blake’s furrowed brow, she continued. “My gender is one of the faunus-specific ones. The word is _hajan_ , but there’s no equivalent outside of the faunus language.”

Blake looked direly confused. “But… wait, is it alright that we use she pronouns for you? And -- everyone at Beacon considers you a girl, are you… okay with that?”

“Well…” She turned her gaze to the sky again, a rueful grin on her face. “I use she pronouns, and technically speaking there is no _right_ way to refer to a _hajan_ in human speech, but for the most part I align with girl fairly well. Getting into Beacon was… difficult. The kingdoms aren’t especially keen on welcoming Menagerians with open arms. Insisting on a visa with my _actual_ gender on it would have made things more difficult, if not outright impossible. This was just… easier.”

Blake hummed in sympathy, utterly lost in thought.

* * *

When Blake returned to the bedroom, the lights were out and Weiss and Yang were fast asleep. Weiss was pressed up against Yang’s side, one arm draped over her side. As quietly as she could (which was very quiet indeed), Blake changed and slipped between the sheets to lie against Weiss’s other side.

Weiss shifted as she settled in, rolled over to regard her with unfocused eyes. Still effectively asleep, Weiss’s voice was barely intelligible when she mumbled “‘ey Blake?”

Blake smiled, answered in a whisper too soft to rouse her further. “Yes?”

“Mmh… can we live here?”

She suppressed a laugh into a soft huff of breath, leaned close to press a kiss to Weiss’s forehead. “Go back to sleep, Weiss.”

“M’kay.”


End file.
